Bay of Peril
by Kristen Elizabeth
Summary: Undercover in San Francisco, Nancy runs into the Hardy Boys for an adventure that could change her life...or end it.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:  Character contained within belong to the Stratemeyer Syndication and Simon & Schuster.  No copyright infringement is intended.  

Authors Notes:  I spent many hours in my early teen years soaking up the Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys Super Mysteries.  And now, I'm trying my hand at the genre.  I've never written a crime/mystery story before…most of my fan fiction is romance…so I'm eager for feedback. Thanks for taking the time out of your day.  I hope you enjoy!

****

Bay of Peril

By Kristen Elizabeth

****

Although it was late June, the gust of wind coming off the water was cold enough to make Nancy Drew shiver, despite her wool pants and knit sweater.  

"I know we're in San Francisco," she said to the slender, dark-haired girl sitting across from her.  "But it's still supposed to be our summer vacation."

George Fayne scooped up a spoonful of creamy clam chowder from a golden sourdough bread bowl and smiled at her best friend.  "Nan, you're the only person in the world who thinks getting involved in a mystery is a vacation."  

She had to return the smile.  It was true.  It didn't matter what time of the year it was, Nancy Drew simply couldn't resist the lure of a potential investigation.  At only twenty-one, she had already made a name for herself in the business of solving crimes.  And with the degrees she'd soon have in Criminology and Psychology, it wouldn't be long before she was a professional, rather than amateur, sleuth.  

It was because of her insatiable curiosity, and inability to turn away from a friend in need, that she found herself in San Francisco during her precious summer break with only George to keep her company.  She tore a piece out of her own bread bowl and looked around at their surroundings.  Fisherman's Wharf was bustling at lunch time, with both tourists and natives all chowing down on the city's delicious seafood delights.  They hadn't been in town long, but it had quickly become both girls' favorite place to meet for a quick meal.  

"Anything new on the case today?" George asked, watching Nancy roll the little piece of bread between her fingertips as though there was something preoccupying her mind.  

Nancy wanted to say yes, but the truth was, since arriving in town to go undercover as Nancy Freeman, apprentice chef at the hottest restaurant in town, she hadn't quite lived up to her reputation.  Although, she consoled herself, the case was a tough one.  

Victoria Lott was an old girlfriend of her dear father, Carson Drew.  After living in the Cayman Islands for several years as head chef in an expensive resort's restaurant, she'd decided to move home to America and try her hand at opening her own Caribbean fusion café in San Francisco.  With several awards for her food and several more for the restaurant itself, it seemed like Victoria had made it with the opening of Curacao.  

And that was when the incidents had started.  At first it hadn't been anything more than a copy of the restaurant's review in the local paper arriving in pieces in an unmarked envelope.  Things had gotten worse when the plug had been pulled on the kitchen's main walk-in fridge and much of the food stores had spoiled overnight.  

But when Victoria's silent business partner, Jonathan Brumby had disappeared without a trace, she'd called her old friend, Carson, and asked for help.  

Now, Nancy found herself in the middle of a mystery without many clues.  She had no ideas yet about who could want to sabotage Curacao, but whoever it was seemed to be laying low for the moment.  

"Nothing," she replied with a sigh.  "But I'll tell you one thing.  By the time I do get a lead, I'll have mastered the special sauce for the grilled shrimp and beef kebobs."  

"It's a good thing I came instead of Bess," George snickered.  "She'd ruin her diet just hanging out with you."  

The wind was pulling long strands of Nancy's strawberry hair out of her high ponytail; she pushed them off her cheeks as she laughed.  "I think even Bess would give up really good food in favor of a filming a national commercial in L.A."  

"What is she hawking again?"

"Suntan lotion."  Nancy arched an eyebrow.  "Did she tell you about the costume she has to wear for it?"

"She mentioned that she'd seen more material in a spool of thread."  George finished off her soup.  "As long as it's what she wants to do, I suppose.  Personally, I can't imagine getting in front of a camera in a thong."  

George's athletically toned body didn't have the luscious curves with which Bess was blessed, but she certainly wouldn't look bad in the costume.  Nancy just nodded her agreement.  She preferred one-piece bathing suits where everything stayed in place and covered what the world didn't need to see.  

"At least she's somewhere warm."  Nancy stretched her arms over her head, giving up the battle to keep her hair in some semblance of order.  "Her and Ned."  

A moment passed.  "Did you talk to him last night?"  

Nancy lowered her arms.  "Only for a moment.  He had to get up early this morning, and the time difference…"  She trailed off.  "George.  I think I'm losing him."  

After taking a breath, George dared to ask the question Nancy had been turning over and over in her mind for two years, ever since Ned had graduated from college and gone into law school.  "Would that be the end of the world, Nan?"  

She stared at the choppy bay for a long time.  When had it happened?  When had she and Ned Nickerson begun to grow apart?  She couldn't entirely blame him.  At the same time he'd become busy with law school, she'd immersed herself in her own classes, not to mention her amateur sleuthing adventures in between quarters and during holidays.  Their relationship might have matured in some ways, but in others, it had withered away.  She still loved him, she was sure of that.  He was more than just her boyfriend, he was her friend, her long-time support system and as of recently, her lover.  

But was she still in love with him?

Nancy looked back at George.  "I can't even imagine my life without him in it."  

"He'll always be in your life.  But relationships change over time."  She tilted her head to one side and studied her red-haired friend.  "There is no rule that says you have to spend the rest of your life with your high school sweetheart."

"I know that."  After taking a sip of her diet soda, Nancy continued, "But it's not like I could just jump into another relationship.  Ned and I have been together forever, but I'm not that needy."  

George gave her an exasperated look.  "There's nothing wrong with dating.  You're twenty-one, after all."  

"So, you're saying…cool things off with Ned…"  

"And see what else is out there."  

Back at the line of seafood venders where they'd purchased their lunch, a noise caught Nancy's attention and she craned her neck to identify it.  "I don't know if I'm ready to…"  She stopped short.  George watched as her expression went from worried to delighted.  "Oh my god!"  She jumped to her feet.  "I don't believe it!"  

George stood, frowning.  "What is it, Nan?"

"Look over there."  Nancy's eyes sparkled more than the shimmering bay waters.  

Following her line of sight, George's gaze landed on a pair of men buying crab cakes.  Both tall, one had a head of dark brown hair while the other had closely cropped blond curls.  Nancy waited until the older one turned slightly, offering them a view of his handsome profile, to continue, "It's Frank Hardy!  And Joe, of course," she quickly added.

Smiling to herself, George could only comment, "What an interesting coincidence."  

****

To Be Continued


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Characters contained within belong to the Stratemeyer Syndication and Simon & Schuster. No copyright infringment is intended.  
  
Author's Notes: Thank you for the initial feedback;) It was greatly appreciated. I hope you keep reading and enjoying.   
  
****  
  
Bay of Peril  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
Fresh crab cakes right next to the ocean. A shining sun with a biting breeze. Frank Hardy smiled as he counted out the money to pay for his and Joe's lunch. He could see why so many people loved San Francisco.  
  
"And you wanted to go to McDonald's," he told his younger brother.   
  
Somehow Joe Hardy was managing the bag of food and two cans of soda while his attention was thoroughly on the group of girls passing by the vendor's stand. "Don't pull the foreign food in a foreign land thing on me. We're still in America."   
  
Frank grabbed the sodas before Joe dropped them. "It almost doesn't seem like it." He looked out over the glistening waters of San Francisco Bay. On one side lay the Pacific Ocean and the island prison Alcatraz. He glanced in the opposite direction. On his other side was one of the most eclectic cities in the county and…  
  
"Nancy?"  
  
Joe whipped his head around. "You're kidding."   
  
But Frank rarely kidded. And indeed, it was Nancy Drew his older brother had spotted standing by a clump of outdoor tables, looking in their general direction. Joe took a moment to admire the view. Their long-time friend and co-sleuth looked beautiful and he didn't feel guilty acknowledging that. Still, he kept the thought to himself. Especially when he snuck a look at his brother's face.   
  
Frank's smile appeared to be nothing more than friendly, but Joe had long since learned to read between his brother's lines. The burdens Frank had been carrying for too long seemed to lift all of a sudden. He was happy to see her. Very happy.   
  
"Do you think she's undercover?" Joe asked.  
  
"I don't know. She might think we are." Frank handed the sodas back to him. "Let's exercise the old 'you look just like a friend of mine' routine."   
  
"Good call." The brothers left the vendor and weaved their way through the tourists and seafood stands until they came to Nancy's table. It was then that they noticed her best friend, George. They appeared to be alone as there were only two drinks on the table between them.   
  
Frank cleared his throat. "Do you know that you look exactly like this girl I used to know?" he told Nancy.  
  
She laughed merrily, knowing that they would never approach her if they were undercover themselves. "Oh, do I?" Lowering her voice, she continued, "It's all right. My name is Nancy Freeman here, but nothing more deep than that."   
  
"Then it's okay to hug?" Joe grinned wickedly.   
  
As soon as she nodded, she found herself in the younger Hardy brother's arms being squeezed tightly. "We missed you," he declared, releasing her.   
  
Nancy's eyes were on Frank. "It has been a long time, hasn't it?"   
  
"A year and a half." He hesitated before hugging her. "It's good to see you." She smelled like fresh air and freesia and he didn't want to let go. But knowing their unspoken boundaries, Frank pulled back.   
  
"It's good to see you, too," Nancy replied, softly.  
  
George took her turn, hugging each brother briefly. "What are you two doing in San Francisco?"   
  
Joe munched on a crab cake as he answered her question. "We're here for the World Sailing Competition." He swallowed. "We have a friend who might win it."  
  
"Is that this weekend?!" George shot Nancy a glance that literally screamed her excitement. "Nan, did you know?"  
  
Nancy shook her head. "But then I've been spending a lot of time in the kitchen."  
  
"The kitchen?" Frank was puzzled; Nancy was many things, but the happy homemaker was not one of them.   
  
"I'm working as an apprentice chef at a restaurant called Curacao." After discreetly looking around to see if anyone around them was paying too much attention to their conversation, Nancy quickly summed up her current case. Frank couldn't mistake the disappointment in her voice when she finished up, "I have no clues and nothing's happened since I arrived. I suppose you could say I'm stuck."  
  
He was sympathetic to her frustration having felt it before on his own cases. "Well, Joe and I would be happy to help out. Not that I think you need it, or anything."  
  
"Actually, I might just take you up on that." Nancy looked up at him with her bright blue eyes. "I can always use help."   
  
Because the two of them seemed content to keep staring at each other all afternoon, Joe elbowed his brother. "We've gotta get going if we're going to make it in time." He explained to George, "The preliminary competition is today starting in Sausalito. Patrick…that's our friend…he's favored to get a top spot going into the finals. We're just moral support, but he'd be lost without us." George snickered. "Hey, do you gals want to come along?"  
  
It was only when Nancy shook her head that Frank realized how much he'd wanted her to say yes. "I can't. Victoria is expecting me back at the restaurant. But George isn't busy."  
  
"Free and clear," her friend added eagerly.   
  
"How about we meet for dinner later?" Nancy suggested. "I don't have to work tonight, so I could show you everything I have on the case so far. And we could catch up."   
  
"At Curacao?" George suggested  
  
Nancy shook her head, her ponytail swaying like red silk. "It's my night off. Let's eat in JapanTown. Call me when the race is over and we'll figure out a time and place."   
  
"We don't have your number," Frank reminded her.   
  
"George does." Nancy paused. "But just in case...." With a pen from her purse, she reached for Frank's hand and turned it over. She wrote her cell phone number on the heel of his palm. "Don't lose that hand."   
  
She winked and Frank swallowed heavily. "Yeah, no. I…um…won't." He looked at Joe who was finishing off his second crab cake and giving him a very curious look. "Let's go then."   
  
"Bye, Nan!" George called out happily. "Don't work too hard!"   
  
****  
  
It was a short ride to Sausalito in the brothers' rental car. Frank drove, with Joe in the passenger's seat and George in the back, taking in the scenery. Unabashedly, Joe flipped on the radio to a rock station he'd located earlier, hoping the heavy drum solos would keep George from hearing what he desperately wanted to ask his brother.   
  
"Was it just me, or was there something going on back there?"   
  
Frank kept his eyes on the road. "What are you babbling about?"  
  
"It's not nice to lie to your brother. Especially when he can read you like a book." Joe crossed his arms triumphantly. "You and Nancy. It's always there, Frank, but this time…" He trailed off, not needing to spell it out. "And now that Callie's out of the picture, maybe…"  
  
"Callie might be," Frank cut him off. "But Ned isn't." He shook his head. "Besides, it's only been three months since Callie and I broke up."  
  
"Officially, maybe. But it's been a lot longer than that since you two stopped being a couple."   
  
It still stung a little to hear the words, but Frank brushed the pain aside. He had loved Callie Shaw quite a lot with the eyes of a teenager. As an adult, that love had cooled into friendship. It was nowhere near as dramatic a tale as Joe liked to tell. "Nancy and I are friends, good friends. And maybe we've had a moment or two of…"  
  
"Passionate smooching?"   
  
Frank gave him a glare. "Indiscretion. But I have too much respect for Ned Nickerson to repeat past mistakes. Got it?"   
  
Joe held up his hands innocently. "Whatever you say. Although you know, Nancy was there for those indiscretions, as you so romantically put it."  
  
"So?"  
  
"I'm just saying."   
  
George poked her head between the two front seats. "Can you nudge it down just a bit, Joe? I can't hear myself think back here."   
  
He returned the volume to a reasonable level. "My bad."   
  
They reached the competition site twenty minutes later and piled out of the car. Dozens of boats dotted the dark blue water, with sails in every color of the rainbow. The gusts coming off the ocean were a lot stronger than on the Wharf; Frank zipped his windbreaker up to his chin and saw George do the same.   
  
"We knew Patrick in high school," Joe told her as they made their way down to the row of piers from which the sailors were launching. "He's been sailing practically since he was born which is why he's so good at it. The only thing's that ever stopped him was money; it's not a cheap hobby. But he's being sponsored now."   
  
George nodded. She knew about sponsorships, having turned down one in tennis to go to college. "If I were Bess, I'd ask you to fix me up."  
  
"And I'd do it, too," he grinned. "But Patrick's a taken man."   
  
Frank led them to the right pier, squinting in the glare coming from the water. "Do you see him?" A moment later, he answered his own question when he spotted a man coming towards them. "Patrick! Over here!"  
  
Patrick Bergman was a notoriously personable guy who could never be found in anything more formal than khaki board shorts and boat shoes. But as he walked towards the trio, his steps were heavy. His handsome face, tanned and weathered from hours on the water, was completely distraught. Frank frowned. Something was wrong.   
  
"Frank…Joe." Their friend rubbed his hand across his mouth, apparently in a mild state of shock. "My boat…"  
  
The brothers exchanged a look before "Your boat? What's wrong with it?"  
  
"Come and…come and see."  
  
Sitting at a private pier a good ways away from its competitors, Patrick's sailboat, named "Sarah's Wind" after his girlfriend, was in a sad state. The crisp white material of the main sail had been slit down the center. Red paint had been splashed all over the hull and keel and the rudder was broken in half.   
  
"The harbor master says it must have happened last night." Taking a breath, Patrick went on. "I just got here…and it was like this."   
  
"Damn," Joe muttered under his breath as he surveyed the damage. He was no expert, but barring a miracle, it didn't seem likely that Patrick would be sailing that day.   
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Characters within belong to the Stratemeyer Syndication and Simon & Schuster. No copyright infringment is intended.  
  
Author's Notes: More thanks for all the kind reviews. I'm glad people are enjoying the story so far, because I'm having fun writing it. I hope you stick around for more!   
  
****  
  
Bay of Peril   
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
"Six o'clock and already the place is packed." Victoria Lott sighed happily as she stirred a pot of chicken and lime soup, only one of a dozen specialties that Curacao was rapidly becoming known for. "I wish Jonathan was here to see it."   
  
Nancy had her suspicions that Victoria's missing business partner might have been more than just business to the lovely chef, and for that, her heart went out to the older woman. Losing someone emotionally hurt; she couldn't imagine what losing a loved one physically must be like. "There's always hope that he'll be found," she said gently.   
  
"Especially now that you're here. I can't thank you enough, Nancy, really."  
  
Fortunately, they were alone in the furthest part of the kitchen. The rest of the staff was quickly, but efficiently preparing plates to be sent out to the front of the restaurant. Still, Nancy felt compelled to remind her contact, "It's better if we talk more later."  
  
"Oh, of course!" In keeping with her role as teacher, she pointed to the stack of plantain pancakes Nancy had just finished preparing to go along with the soup. "Those are ready for the oven now."   
  
It only took her a moment to slide them into the hot oven, but in that moment, the cell phone in Nancy's pants pocket rang. Closing up the door, she untied her apron enough to retrieve it. "Hello?"  
  
"Nancy? It's me…Frank."   
  
She couldn't keep herself from smiling. Seeing Frank on the Wharf had been like a fresh breath of air. For someone who came in and out of her life at the oddest moments, he certainly brightened it up. There was just something about his brown eyes, broad shoulders and neatly combed hair that looked even better when it was tousled. She'd always felt the pull towards the older Hardy brother, but it had never been so strong before.   
  
An image of Ned struck her. The guilt followed instantly. Always the guilt.  
  
"Frank. Is the race over already?"   
  
"More or less. The top spots are taken and now there's just stragglers finishing up."  
  
"How did your friend do?"  
  
There was a pause. "He placed. But it's a very long story. We'll tell you all about it over dinner."   
  
Nancy nodded. "Good, because I'm famished. I've been making food all afternoon, but haven't eaten any of it." She glanced at her watch. "It's six now. How about if I run back to my place and change, then meet you all in an hour. There's a sushi bar called Nobu. George knows where it is."  
  
"Sounds great," he replied, his voice breaking up a bit with what she assumed was wind blowing over the mouthpiece of his phone. "We'll see you there."  
  
"Bye, Frank." Nancy pressed a button to end the call, but ended up staring at the phone for a long moment.  
  
Victoria snapped her fingers. "Nancy? Earth to Nancy?"  
  
She blinked. "I'm sorry. I just…" She slipped the phone back into her pocket. "I ran into an old friend today. We're going to dinner."  
  
"So I heard." Victoria tested her soup, and reached for another sliced lime to doctor it. "Is this just a friend, or is he a *friend*?"   
  
Nancy lifted one slender shoulder. "Frank is just…Frank." Shaking her head, she pulled off her apron. "If I don't get in too late, I'll call you and we can talk."  
  
The older woman nodded, holding out the testing spoon to Nancy. "Too much lime?"   
  
"Not that I can tell," Nancy replied after tasting it. "But I'm just an apprentice." Smiling, she started for the employee entrance. "See you tomorrow."   
  
****  
  
Nancy took a cab to JapanTown, a small section of the city aptly named for it Asian buildings, markets and restaurants. She would have walked as it wasn't too far from the apartment she was subletting for the duration of the case, but because she'd taken extra time getting ready, she was running a few minutes late. At first, she hadn't been able to find an outfit that was flattering, but not too obvious. Then she hadn't been able to decide whether to put on more makeup than her usual powder and lip gloss.   
  
"Where are your priorities?" Nancy scolded herself several times. She had a case to solve. And Frank Hardy was an old friend, nothing more. The kiss or two they'd shared in the past didn't count, she reasoned, as they came about during extreme, life or death situations.   
  
Still, she found herself wearing her new black dress, short and sleeveless, with her hair pulled back in a multi-colored clip she'd bought in the Haight district. She'd gone ahead with the eye makeup and blush and she was already regretting it as she arrived at Nobu.   
  
Her party had already been seated, and she was led to them by a bowing Japanese woman in a silk kimono. As she approached the table, Frank immediately got to his feet.  
  
"Hey. Hi." He reached for the empty chair they'd saved and held it out for her. "You made it. You look…" Frank tripped over the compliment. "Nice. You look nice."   
  
Nancy slid into the seat. "Thanks. I hope I didn't keep you all waiting too long."   
  
"We went ahead and ordered drinks," Joe told her. "George got you hot tea."   
  
"Perfect." She smiled at her friend across the table. Frank was seated to her right, Joe on her left. "So, tell me about the race."  
  
The trio exchanged glances. "Well, it could have been a disaster, but it turned out okay." George smiled weakly.   
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"Patrick's boat was vandalized sometime last night," Frank explained. "It wasn't fit to sail, but fortunately, his sponsors got him another boat just in time and he took third place."  
  
Joe scowled. "If he'd been in his own boat, he would have come in first."   
  
"His boat will be fixed by the semi-finals. He'll go into the final race on top," Frank assured his brother. "The question now is…why was he targeted?"  
  
"Random act of cruelty?" Nancy guessed.  
  
"I don't know. He was freaked out, but when we offered to look into it, he turned us down." Frank shook his head. "It sounded like he wanted us to stay out of it."   
  
"And this after we found out who was stealing his lunch money in fourth grade," Joe tossed in. "It was kind of weird."   
  
George reached for the menu. "I'm sorry to stray off topic, but does anyone feel like sharing a norimaki platter?"   
  
Nancy nodded at her, then returned her attention to the issue at hand. "Maybe he'll come around, once the shock wears off. Are the police involved?"  
  
"That's the other strange thing. No police. He said his sponsors said that insurance would take care of it. I don't know, Nan. It's odd to me. The whole thing."   
  
Their drinks arrived just then, green tea for her and George, a Japanese beer for Frank, and soda for Joe who was just a few months shy of his 21st birthday, to his great regret.  
  
Nancy gave Frank a little smile. "How about we put the mysteries aside and just have dinner?"   
  
"A great idea from a great gal." Joe lifted his glass. "Here's a toast to finding ourselves in the same city at the same time yet again."   
  
Frank's eyes were on Nancy as he replied, "To happy coincidences."   
  
She murmured the same and took a sip of tea, burning the roof of her mouth. His stare wasn't unwelcome. Rather, it made her stomach feel warmer than the hot liquid. But she couldn't look back at him. Somehow, she had the crazy thought that if she didn't return the stare, her disloyalty to Ned wouldn't be so severe.   
  
A kimono-clad waitress appeared and took their food orders; conversation turned to more mundane things. They told the boys all about Bess and her commercial; Joe in particular seemed eager to catch it on TV when it aired. Nancy was pleased to hear that Frank was still pursing his own degree in Criminology, although his secondary degree would be in Pre-Law.   
  
"Inspired by your father," he told Nancy.   
  
But while they caught up on their own lives, laughed at Joe's anecdotes, including all the ones from his brief stint as a fraternity pledge, and made mention of their families, there was nothing said about Ned or Callie. It seemed to be a topic that was off limits. Nancy wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or not. She didn't really want to talk about Ned, but perhaps if she heard how steady Frank's relationship was, it would help quiet some of her mixed emotions.   
  
It fell to Joe to keep up a running conversation throughout the meal, and he did so with his usual energy and wit. Nancy's appetite had deserted her; she only managed to eat a few sushi rolls and a bite or two of the red bean ice cream George ordered for dessert.   
  
After Frank took care of the bill, they left the restaurant. San Francisco's summer nights were downright cold; Nancy was furious with herself for forgetting her coat in favor of putting on eyeliner.   
  
She blinked when Frank shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her shaking shoulders. "Whoever said chivalry is dead obviously hasn't met the Hardy boys," she told George as she gratefully put it on. The heavy material was still warm and smelled faintly of a spiced aftershave. "Thank you, Frank."   
  
He pulled at his ear, a decidedly boyish gesture that didn't quite fit the tall, dark and handsome picture, but seemed just right somehow. "Well, I can't let chivalry die, can I?"  
  
Joe rubbed his hands together. "What are we doing now? The night is young and some of us are on vacation." He answered his own question a half-second later when he spotted an open store across the street. "Ooh, katana!"  
  
"He has a thing for Japanese martial arts," Frank explained as Joe darted between cars to get to the window display.   
  
George laughed. "Who doesn't?" Without hesitation, she followed the blonde brother, leaving Nancy and Frank alone.   
  
A few seconds of silence passed. Then, at the same time, they both spoke.  
  
"How is Callie?"  
  
"How is Ned?"  
  
Nancy had to laugh when they both stopped short. "I'm sorry."   
  
Frank shook his head, smiling. "It's all right." There was another pause. "You didn't mention him at dinner."  
  
"You didn't say anything about Callie, either," she countered, almost defensively.   
  
His breath was visible in the cold air as he let out a pent-up breath. "I didn't say anything because there really isn't anything to say. Callie and I aren't together anymore."   
  
"Oh." Nancy bit her lower lip. "I'm sorry, Frank."  
  
"Don't be. We're still friends. It's just…" He shoved his hands into his pockets for warmth. "We both started to realize that we were only staying together because we'd been a couple for so long that we didn't have any idea how *not* to be together, you know?" Nancy glanced down at the sidewalk. "Probably not. I hope you don't, anyways. Because you and Ned are a solid couple." He glanced at her. "Right?"  
  
"Ned and I." She cleared her throat delicately. "We don't get to spend much time together, but…I suppose you could say…sure. Solid."   
  
Frank frowned. "Nancy, if you don't mind me saying so, it seems like your mind is somewhere else, not just at dinner, but on the Wharf, too. Is everything all right?"  
  
"The case," she said quickly. To give her hands something to do, she reached behind her head and undid the colorful clip holding her hair in place. Strawberry waves fell around her shoulders as she put the hairpiece into her handbag. "I can't seem to wrap my brain around it. It's not anymore difficult than anything I've done in the past, but for some reason, it's just not coming together."   
  
"Sometimes they're like that."  
  
"I know. And I know I shouldn't be so hard on myself. But I've come so far since I was a teenager…given up so much to do what I love to do. And now, after all these years and all these cases, a simple saboteur has me stumped!"   
  
"What have you given up?" he asked before he could stop himself.   
  
Ned. The word was on the tip of her tongue, but she held back. It was too painful to try to explain to him how, while Ned had always supported her without question, he'd never really understood her passion for sleuthing. And that he'd gotten hurt a little more every time she chose a case over spending time with him. Although, it wasn't exactly fair to blame the cases. Their emotional separation…she'd brought it on herself.   
  
"Oh, you know. Being a carefree teenager, that sort of thing," she said instead of the truth. "You and Joe must have felt some of that."  
  
"Maybe some. Although, if we had just been normal kids, we never would have met you."   
  
Nancy glanced up at him. "Well, that's true." She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, making it shine in the light from a nearby street lamp. "I wouldn't have liked that," she continued in a short rush.   
  
A stray reddish curl whipped across her cheek in the strong breeze. Without thinking, Frank reached out and gently smoothed it behind her ear. She felt the shiver his touch instigated all the way down her spine. "Me neither," he replied, his voice rich with resonance.   
  
She wanted him to kiss her and she couldn't even bring herself to feel guilty about it. And if the way his eyes were boring into hers was any indication, he wanted to do the same. So, when she saw him begin to lean in towards her, Nancy closed her eyes and waited for the warmth of his lips on hers.   
  
Something heavy hit her side, wedging between her and Frank with tremendous force. Caught off balance by the sudden intrusion, Nancy stumbled backwards and fell to the sidewalk. Her elbow burned as it skidded across the concrete.   
  
"Nancy!" she heard Frank yell.   
  
Their attacker was clad in all back, including a ski mask over his face. Without a word, he bent down, scooped up Nancy's purse and ran.   
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me, but to the Stratemeyer Syndicate and Simon & Schuster. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who's hanging in with the story! I appreciate it mucho much:)   
  
****  
  
Bay of Peril  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
"Joe!" Frank yelled across the street to catch his brother's attention. "Get over here!" Once he was sure Joe was on his way, he looked down at Nancy. Seeing blood seeping from fresh scrapes on her palms made him even more determined. And infuriated. "Hold on, Nancy."   
  
He heard her call his name as he took off after the mugger, but didn't stop. He could barely see the shadowed figure, but it was a good distance ahead of him on the street, knocking into people as it tried to escape. Frank tripled his speed when he saw the mugger turn a corner.   
  
Taking the same corner, Frank found himself in a narrow alley. There was no sign of the mugger, but there was also only one way to get out. He took it and found himself on another street. His head whipped around as he searched for his target. Spotting movement to his right, Frank picked up speed once more.  
  
He lost count of the alleys he turned down, but finally, after nearly fifteen minutes, he reached a dead end. The mugger had disappeared with Nancy's purse. Frank stopped to catch his breath. Bending over with his hands on his knees, he cursed out loud.   
  
Trusting his photographic memory to guide him, Frank made his way back to Nancy. It took a good while; he hadn't realized how far he'd run. By the time he returned, a small crowd that included two police officers, George, and Joe surrounded her. Frank wiped his brow and muscled his way to her side.   
  
"I'm sorry, Nancy. I lost him near Coit Tower."   
  
She smiled weakly, but her gratitude was real. "Thank you, Frank." Wincing, Nancy inspected the raw flesh of her palms.   
  
"Are you okay?" he asked, frowning at the red wounds marring her delicate skin.  
  
Joe nodded for her. "With some antiseptic and bandages, she'll be as good as new."  
  
"Just missing my purse," Nancy sighed. She looked at the officers. "I can tell you everything that was in it."  
  
"That'll help," one man replied, opening up a small pad to take notes.  
  
"My wallet, my checkbook, a compact, the keys to my apartment, my cell phone…" She hesitated for a second. "My…um…sunglasses." A second passed. "Oh! And my clip." Frank watched her stamp her foot with a bit of her usual spunk. "It was a one of a kind piece I bought on Haight Street; it can't be replaced."   
  
The officer nodded sympathetically. "You said you lost the mugger around Coit Tower?" Still watching Nancy, Frank bobbed his head. "We'll fan out from there and search, but I don't expect much to come up. The cell phone might turn up in a pawn shop or something, though."  
  
"Doubtful," Joe muttered under his breath. It would be far too traceable.   
  
"I'm sorry this had to happen to you, miss," the officer continued. "We have your information and we'll be in touch if we find anything."  
  
"Thank you." Nancy looked at George. "I think I need a hot bath and something stronger than tea."  
  
Her best friend put her arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a quick hug. "Of course, Nan."   
  
The crowd began to disperse and the officers took their leave to file their reports. Nancy turned to the brothers. "Our vacations together are nothing if not consistent."   
  
"We'll take you back to your place," Frank offered. "And if there's anything you need…"  
  
"You've done so much already," she replied. A moment passed. "I was worried about you. There's no telling what that person could have done to you if cornered."   
  
Frank lifted his shoulders. "I'm sorry, but it's instinct at this point. A friend gets knocked over by a creep in a ski mask; I chase after him."   
  
Nancy smiled briefly. "There was something else in my purse. Something I didn't tell the police about."   
  
"What was it?" Joe asked.  
  
"A CD of information. Everything I've gathered on the case so far. Whoever took my purse has that now, not to mention my real identity from my driver's license and credit cards." Her eyes watered, but she valiantly held the tears back. This wasn't the first time she'd been in this sort of situation, and with her lifestyle, it probably wouldn't be the last.   
  
Frank ran his hand through his wind-blown, sweat-damp hair. "If you were a target of something more than just random street crime, they already know who you are, Nancy."   
  
She nodded her agreement. It was scary how her brain and Frank's always seemed to operate on the same wavelength. "I suppose there's nothing more I can do tonight. And nothing I can do tomorrow except cancel my credit cards, have my lock changed, and try to go on with this investigation from square one again. Maybe I'll have better luck this time."  
  
"You will," Frank declared. "Because we're going to help you." He glanced at Joe who nodded. "Unless you don't…"  
  
"I do," Nancy quickly corrected him. "Thank you, Frank. Both of you." She looked at George. "I'm ready for that bath now."   
  
Frank drove the girls to the hotel George had taken a room at to keep up the pretense of being Nancy's out-of-town visitor. "You're sure there's nothing else I…we can do for you, Nancy?" he asked, putting the car into park alongside the curb.   
  
"I'm fine," she assured him.   
  
"Tomorrow Patrick's competing the semi-finals. But we all could get together and go over the case sometime afterwards. Or we could just skip the race all together." Joe gave his brother a sharp look, which Frank ignored. "It's up to you. But whatever you decide, we'll get all of this straightened out, Nancy. We always do."   
  
*Everything except you and I and whatever this is between us.*  
  
"I know we will. Goodnight." George waved goodbye to the boys and slide out of the car with Nancy right behind her. The door shut and the boys watched as the girls headed into the hotel.   
  
Joe crossed his arms. "'We'll skip the race all together'? Frank, what happened to holding back out of respect for Ned Nickerson?"  
  
"She was attacked tonight." He wrenched the car into drive and took off towards their own hotel. "And while she might be tough enough to handle anything, she still needs help every now and then."   
  
"But help of what kind? Friendly help or something more?"   
  
"You know, sometimes I think you talk just to hear the sound of your own voice, Joe," Frank snapped.   
  
"Well, it's just so harmonious." Joe shook his head after a moment. "Why can't you just admit that you have a thing for her? Have always had a thing for her, actually. Ned or no Ned."  
  
"What good would it do?"  
  
"Ah! There! You just admitted it!!"  
  
"I admitted nothing that would stand up in a court of law."  
  
Joe grinned mischievously. "Maybe you two just need a push in the right direction."  
  
"If you're thinking about doing any pushing…" Frank turned a corner just fast enough to make Joe's shoulder slam against the inside of the car door, a slight punishment for an overzealous little brother. "Don't."  
  
****  
  
The semi-finals were held just up the coast from San Francisco in a large bay perfect for sailing. Conditions were ideal and when Frank and Joe arrived the next morning, they found their friend raring to go.   
  
"My boat's as good as new," Patrick said as he led the brothers down to the water's edge. Spectators and other racers milled about the beach and piers; the scent of sea salt was heavy in the air. "Repaired overnight." He pointed to "Sarah's Wind," which now had a brand new sail and rudder, as well as a fresh coat of white paint. "See? I told you my sponsors would take care of everything."   
  
Frank and Joe exchanged a look. "Who are these sponsors, anyways?" Joe asked. "They've obviously got some serious dough."   
  
"They prefer to remain…anonymous." Patrick pushed his reflective sunglasses further up on his nose. "Listen, I appreciate you two offering to look into what happened yesterday, but really, it's not necessary. Everything's fixed now, and I'm going to take this race today and then the finals after that. I don't want to let some stupid prank get in the way of that."  
  
Something in the way he spoke sent warning bells off in Frank's head. He'd met a lot of people who'd been robbed or had their property vandalized, and none of them had ever just wanted to forget about it. Still, if Patrick didn't want justice, he wasn't going to push to investigate. Yet.  
  
"It's cool," Joe told the other man. "Listen, we're going to go find a good place to sit. Good luck, man." They shook hands with their friend and watched him saunter back down to the pier to get his boat ready to launch.   
  
"Do you think it's a little too convenient that yesterday, just at the exact second Patrick needed a boat, there was one right there, waiting for him to use?"   
  
Joe glanced at his brother as they walked towards the makeshift bleachers that had been set up for the spectators. "A little, I guess. But his sponsors could just be very thorough. They've invested some money in Patrick, and if he hadn't raced yesterday, it would have gone down the tubes."   
  
"He's just a little too…too something. Complacent. I remember in fourth grade when we helped him with that lunch money thing, he was furious that someone would steal from him. He bugged us every day until we solved it." Frank folded his arms over his broad chest. "And now, someone's torn apart his boat, his pride and joy…but he doesn't want to find out who it was? I don't buy it."  
  
"Frank, there's really nothing we can do about it without his cooperation."   
  
The older brother shrugged. "Maybe." As they walked, they passed by a newspaper stand carrying the day's issue of the San Francisco Chronicle. Frank fished some money out of his jeans pocket and grabbed a copy. The race was going to be long, and while he enjoyed sports, he liked to keep up with world events more.   
  
Just before the race started, an announcement came over the loudspeakers. "Careful out there, sailors. We've had a few reported shark sightings in the area. Just a heads up. Good luck to everyone competing."  
  
"Are they trying to freak them out or something, thinking Jaws might be swimming right underneath their flimsy boats?" Joe asked out loud.  
  
Frank lifted his shoulders and opened the first section of his thick newspaper. Every now and then, he'd glance up between articles and take in the race. The bay had been turned into a race course with marks to hit; the first man to make it around five times took number one going into the finals. Patrick was leading, completing his second lap around the marked course while others were just finishing their first. Frank was proud of his friend, but lingering doubts still plagued him.   
  
An hour into the race, Frank turned a page and came upon an article that instantly peaked his interest. "Hey, Joe." He elbowed his brother. "Look at this."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"It's an article about Nancy's restaurant. Well, their missing business manager anyways." Frank pointed to the black and white picture of a distinguished-looking man. "'Jonathan Brumby was reported missing two weeks ago by his partner, Victoria Lott,'" he read out loud. "Together, they owned and operated Curacao, a fusion Caribbean restaurant just north of Market Street. Police have yet to find any concrete clues as to his whereabouts, and foul play is still suspected due to the mysterious circumstances surrounding his sudden disappearance.'"   
  
"I wonder if Nancy's done a thorough background check on this guy," Joe mused.   
  
"I assume she has."  
  
"She didn't say much about him when she outlined everything for us. I mean, I'm instantly curious about something. If the kidnappers are also the saboteurs, why take the business manager and not the front woman?"   
  
Frank frowned at the missing man's picture. "There could be a hundred reasons. I'm sure Nancy found out everything she could on this guy. It's probably all on that CD that was stolen."  
  
Joe shook his blonde head. "She's got herself into quite a doozy, here. And now with you getting her all distracted…"  
  
"Distracted? I'm not distracting her." Frank folded up the paper. "I'm sure she just misses Ned. We do look somewhat alike, you know. I probably remind her of him or something."  
  
"Maybe." Joe returned his attention to the race. "Or maybe she's not thinking about Ned at all when she's with you."  
  
Frank's forehead pulled into a scowl. "Hey. Mini-Freud. Lay off the analysis. I don't need it."  
  
"Fine, fine. Fumble around on your own. Maybe someday you'll both trip at the same time, bump into each other and finally get it right."  
  
Drawing in a deep, calming breath, Frank stood up. "I'm taking a walk," he announced.  
  
"Hey, Frank!" Joe shot to his feet, a repentant look on his face. "I know I can be a pain in your ass, but you know that I just want you to be happy, right?"  
  
"Yeah." He gave his younger brother a light, forgiving shove. "I'm not mad. I just need to clear my head." Starting down the bleachers, he said over his shoulder, "Be back soon."  
  
Leaving the cheers of the crowd behind, Frank walked to the rocks that bordered the edge of the short, sandy beach. Strong, salty breezes hit him squarely, turning his hair into a chocolate mess. The roar of the ocean drowned out the rest of the world; it was only when he looked out on the water and saw the boats in the distance, still racing, that he felt pulled back into reality.   
  
He was alone on this portion of the beach, half hidden by a cozy rock cove. The foamy remnants of waves lapped close to his feet; Frank moved back a few inches to ensure that his shoes stayed dry. Realizing his pragmatism, he sighed. Common sense always abounded. Common sense kept him in check.   
  
Common sense kept him from being honest about a certain red-haired detective.   
  
He stopped short with the sudden realization that he missed her. It had only been a matter of hours since they'd left the girls at George's hotel, but already he missed seeing Nancy's face, hearing her voice, being by her side. But that was wrong! Wasn't it? She belonged to someone else.  
  
Frank laughed. "I know," he corrected himself. "Nancy belongs to no one but herself. And I wouldn't want it any other way."   
  
But still, despite this admission, part of him really, truly wanted to be able to call Nancy "his," as long as he could also call himself "hers."  
  
The walk was supposed to clear his head, but now he found himself more confused than ever. He had no doubts about what he wanted, but unless certain circumstances changed, it looked as though he'd be keeping his heart to himself for a long time to come.   
  
Frank was about to turn around and start back down the beach when something caught his eye a dozen yards away. At the very edge of the water there was a large, unidentifiable shape; it was gently tugged back and forth with the never-ending ebb of the waves. Frowning, he started towards it.   
  
The smell of decaying flesh hit him a long time before he figured out what it was he was looking at. Coughing, Frank lifted the collar of his shirt up over his nose as he got even closer. It was then that he realized he was looking at a dead body.   
  
Bloated from the salt water and gnawed at by what looked to be every creature in the sea, the body was barely identifiable. Perhaps it was only because he'd just seen the man's picture that Frank recognized the remains.   
  
"Oh god…" He took a few steps backwards, away from his gruesome discovery, his dark eyes wide in horror. "It's Jonathan Brumby!"  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Characters within belong to the Stratemeyer Syndicate and Simon & Schuster. No copyright infringement is intended.   
  
Author's Notes: Thanks for the continued interest! I'm so glad that what I'm writing is coming close to the style of the original novels. I know they were never considered great literature, but they always entertained me;) I hope everyone keeps reading and enjoying!  
  
****  
  
Bay of Peril  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
"Why Jonathan?" Victoria sobbed into Nancy's shoulder. "He was so…wonderful. Why?! Why him?!"  
  
There was nothing Nancy could do or say to console Victoria. The older woman was in utter despair over the news that her business partner's body had been found washed up on the beach. By Frank Hardy. That was the part that shocked Nancy the most, she was sad to admit.   
  
"Bad things happen to good people," Nancy replied softly. "I'm so very sorry, Victoria."   
  
Wiping her eyes, the chef shook her head back and forth. "The last time I saw him, I wanted to tell him so many things. But I didn't. I thought there would be plenty of time to say everything that needed to be said. I can't believe…he's really gone."  
  
Nancy held her friend through another round of tears, but in the back of her mind she was reviewing this new, tragic twist to her case. The autopsy hadn't been performed yet, but Frank had told her on the phone that he had seen some rope around the man's hands when the coroner had lifted the body out of the surf and searched what remained of his clothing for identification. She closed her eyes. How horrible for Frank. She had seen bodies before…they both had…but it never got any easier.   
  
Jonathan Brumby was dead, most likely murdered and dumped into the Bay or just dumped. Drowning, being nibbled on by sharks…she couldn't imagine a worse fate.   
  
"Victoria," Nancy began. "I know this is the worst time imaginable, but I need to ask you something. Do you know of anyone, anyone at all, who might have wanted Jonathan dead?"  
  
"No. Everyone loved him." The older woman's hazel eyes gave away her lie. After a moment, she let out a breath. "I should have told you this from the beginning Nancy."  
  
"Told me what?"  
  
Victoria folded her trembling hands in her lap and looked around the empty restaurant. The chairs had been taken down from their resting places on the tables, but that was the only preparation that had been made for the rapidly approaching dinner rush. "I spent ten years dreaming of Curacao," she started. "I wanted people to come here and step into the Caribbean for a few hours. The waterfall, the Spanish tiles, the flowers on the tables…to me, this restaurant is the most beautiful place on earth."   
  
She paused. "But putting a dream together takes money. A lot of money. That's where Jonathan came in. He was the logic; I was the vision. I mean, what did I know about investors and book-keeping and licenses? All I wanted to do was create. To cook. He understood that. We respected each other's roles. He never told me what to put on my menu…and I never asked him where the money came from."  
  
"Are you saying…the money to start Curacao came from less than legal sources?"  
  
"I think so," Victoria whispered. "A lot of our capital came from this company, Ossi Industries. Jonathan mentioned them once or twice. But I never saw that name on any of our books. According to those books, that money wasn't supposed to exist."  
  
*Which would explain why that name didn't come up in my research,* Nancy thought to herself.   
  
"When the incidents started up, Jonathan was much more upset about them than I was," Victoria continued. "When he disappeared, I found out why." She paused. "You have to forgive me, Nancy. I brought you all the way out here, concocted your undercover position…and I never told you the whole story."  
  
Nancy nodded patiently. "Tell me now."  
  
"Jonathan had been getting letters, letters that he didn't tell me about, from Ossi Industries. They basically said that they were no longer interested in financing Curacao. In fact, they wanted to buy up this entire block instead, for god only knows what reason. According to the letters, they wanted us out by next month or else."  
  
"Or else what?"  
  
"Or else they'd mention our undeclared capital to the IRS." Victoria sniffed delicately. "Nancy, I should have told you up front. But I was frightened. Jonathan had disappeared, and here I was facing vandalism, blackmail, a possible audit, a potential threat to my life…" She closed her eyes. "And the end of my dream. I'm so sorry."   
  
"It's all right, Victoria." Nancy reached for the older woman's hand. "But let me ask you…why did you come to me instead of going to the police?"   
  
"It's going to sound crazy, but I really thought Jonathan might still be alive. And that if I went to the police, whoever had him might kill him. I suppose…I suppose that doesn't matter now, does it?"   
  
Just as Victoria dissolved into fresh sobs, Nancy's cell phone rang. Cursing the caller's timing, but unable to ignore it in case it was something vital, she stood up. "Victoria, I'm sorry. I'll just be a moment, I promise." The older woman nodded through her tears and Nancy moved to a quiet corner of the restaurant, away from the noisy rush of the manufactured waterfall, to take the call.   
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Nancy!"  
  
She froze. "Ned."  
  
"Yeah, it's me. I know it's been awhile since we've really talked, but…" He cleared his throat, and even though thousands of miles separated them, Nancy could tell something was bothering her boyfriend. "We're both so busy."  
  
"I know. I'm sorry. Things have been…crazy here."  
  
There was instant concern in his voice, and it made her guilt triple. "Are you all right, Nan? Nothing's happened to you?"  
  
"Nothing more than being pushed down by a mugger," she assured him. Somehow, she managed to stop herself before she mentioned Frank Hardy's role in the incident…or even that he'd been there at all. "I'm fine, Ned."  
  
"You always say that," he replied. "Even when your life is in serious danger."   
  
There was a touch of bitterness in the words that Nancy ignored. "And it always turns out to be true, doesn't it?"  
  
"It might not someday. Do you have any idea how much that scares me?"  
  
Nancy switched the little phone to her other ear. "Ned, this really isn't a good time to get into that argument again."  
  
"It's never a good time, is it, Nan?" She could almost see him shaking his handsome head at her. "Look, I didn't call to fight. I actually have good news."  
  
She smiled. "I could use some right now."   
  
"Well, in case you've been so wrapped up in your investigation and haven't noticed, this weekend is the Fourth of July."   
  
He knew her too well. She had forgotten. "Oh, yeah. It is. But what…"  
  
Ned cut her off, his voice excited. "I made arrangements to take Friday off. I got a plane ticket. And I'll be arriving in San Francisco just in time to celebrate with you!"  
  
For the second time, she felt her body freeze up. "You're…coming here? This weekend?"  
  
"Is that okay, Nan? I mean…we haven't seen each other since Easter."   
  
"You know that it's okay with me," she quickly assured him. "It's just…" Nancy hesitated. They couldn't have the conversation they needed to have over the phone. Nor could they have it while her feelings about Frank Hardy were still up in the air. It wasn't fair to Ned and she knew it, but she continued, "The case is reaching a crucial point. I want to see you, but if you came, you know you wouldn't be first on my list of priorities."   
  
A few seconds passed before Ned chuckled with bitterness that she *couldn't* ignore. "When am I ever first on that list, Nan? I've become quite accustomed to playing second fiddle. I just want to see you. I miss you. I miss making love to you."   
  
Her cheeks felt hot. "Ned, I'm sorry. I miss you, too. I do. And…you know…being with you. I just don't think the Fourth is going to work."   
  
He cursed and she winced, pulling the phone away from her ear slightly. "Nan, I have been patient for years. I've never asked you for much of anything. I've gone along with the investigations, helped out where I could, stood back when I knew I'd get in the way, and I haven't even really minded. But lately…I've come to realize how much I hate it."   
  
"Hate it?" she repeated. "You hate what I do…"  
  
"Yes. Okay? I hate it. I hate the fact that you're more than happy to drop any plans we have to run off to Australia or South Africa…the ends of the earth, just for a case. I hate the danger you put yourself in every time, the chances you take with your life. I hate feeling like just as we got as close as two people can get, I lost you. And most of all Nancy, I hate knowing that I'll never matter as much to you as solving some damn crime does!"   
  
Hot tears stung her eyes. "You're being so unfair, Ned."  
  
"Am I? You don't agree with any of this?"  
  
"You should know how much you matter to me," she shot back. "And if you really don't, maybe we should do something about it. I care about you too much to keep you in a relationship you don't believe in."   
  
Ned sighed loudly. "Nancy, I know you love me. You'd never sleep with any man you didn't love whole-heartedly. But I just don't think you love me as much as you love what you do."   
  
"That's not true," she whispered. But was it a lie? A moment passed. "Do you love me?"  
  
"Of course I do, Nan."  
  
Nancy dried her tears with the cuff of her pinstripe shirt. "To love someone, Ned, you have to accept certain things about them. If you can't…maybe they're not the right person for you."   
  
"Are you saying that you're not the right person for me? Because I won't accept being second on your list?" he countered.  
  
"You shouldn't have to accept that," Nancy said, louder than necessary.   
  
"No." His voice sounded even further away than it was. "I shouldn't."   
  
"Please. Let's not do this over the phone." She glanced over at Victoria who was still crying. "There's been so much sadness today…I can't take anymore."   
  
Ned grew strangely quiet for a few moments. "I get that you don't want me to come out for the Fourth. But is this the real reason…or is there something else?"   
  
"There's nothing…" she began, before continuing, "I don't know. Ned, I can't apologize for being who I am. Moreover, I won't. But I am sorry for every time I've hurt you. I never, ever meant to."  
  
He scoffed at the idea that she had. "You think I don't know that? Come on…no matter how far apart we've drifted, I could never turn you into some sort of villainess."   
  
She nearly broke down. Why did he have to be so wonderful even when they were on the verge of splitting up? "When I get back to River Heights…there's a lot of things we need to talk about."   
  
"I know, Nan. I know." Another, painful moment passed. "I had better go before I run out of minutes." He hesitated. "Say hi to Frank and Joe for me."  
  
Nancy sucked in a breath. "How did you know that they…"  
  
"Fenton Hardy mentioned to your father who mentioned to me that they were heading out to San Francisco. I just figured with the track record the three of you have going for bumping into each other…it was a safe bet that you had." Ned cleared his throat again. "That's another thing I hate, Nan. Not that you have other men in your life, especially men who have the same interests as you…but that one of them is Frank Hardy." Before she could reply, he hung up with just a simple, "Love you."  
  
It was a long time before Nancy wiped her tears away and went back to console the other broken-hearted woman in the restaurant.   
  
****  
  
"Oh my god!! You saw a dead body today!!" Sarah, Patrick's girlfriend shivered, and waited for her boyfriend to wrap a protective arm around her shoulders. "I think I'd go crazy or something! I couldn't take it!"   
  
From his place in the passenger's seat, Joe couldn't help but notice how Frank's hands were so tight around the steering wheel that his knuckles were turning white. He felt a little bit guilty. It had been his idea to ask Patrick and his girlfriend out for a celebratory dinner after the race, with the two-fold purpose of taking Frank's mind off the day's events. But he hadn't remembered that Sarah could be a real airhead.   
  
"Did you, like, touch it?" the girl asked.   
  
"Of course I didn't…"  
  
Joe craned his neck around to see the couple in the backseat.. "Where does everyone want to eat?" When no one said anything, he suggested, "How about Curacao? It's supposed to have great Caribbean food."   
  
Almost instantly, Frank's hands relaxed. "We know someone who works there. I bet we could get in without a reservation."   
  
Popping her gum, Sarah shook her head until Patrick explained, "Sarah doesn't like food from weird countries."   
  
Frank's hands clenched up again. "So, McDonald's it is," he muttered.   
  
Not more than twenty minutes later, the brothers found themselves digging half-heartedly into a bag of burgers and fries. At least the view was spectacular, Frank thought. They'd ended up in Golden Gate Park, and it was some consolation, as he sipped his milkshake that contained no trace of milk, that at least he got to see the bridge lit up against the night sky.   
  
"Here's to a great race," Joe toasted their friend with his french fries.   
  
Patrick accepted the gesture with a bite of his burger. "I could've taken first place," he told them after swallowing. "But that Swedish guy snuck up on me in the final lap." He looked at Sarah who was trying to keep her platinum blonde hair out of her face as she ate. "Isn't Sweden land-locked?"  
  
"Half of the country is bordered by the Baltic Sea."   
  
He shrugged off Frank's correction. "Well, I'll get him in the finals." Patrick stared at his food for a long moment. "I can't stay at second place."   
  
"The sponsor guys weren't too happy about it," Sarah added.  
  
"Hey!" A scowl spread across Patrick's face. "What did I tell you?" He glanced at the brothers. "Of course they wanted me to take first. They're paying for pretty much every…" The sudden ringing of his cell phone cut him off. "Hold on. I gotta get this."   
  
Frank watched Patrick move away, just out of hearing distance. "Tell me something, Sarah. Who are these sponsors?"  
  
She shrugged indifferently. "I don't really know. They just give him money. A lot of it." Sarah brushed her hair back to give them a glimpse of her ears and the diamonds that adorned them. "He bought me these one day, just because."  
  
"Nice," Joe whistled. "Real?"  
  
"Half a karat. Each."   
  
Frank set his milkshake aside. "They give him all this money…just to race?"   
  
Sarah stared at him. "Duh. Yes. He's the best." She turned her attention to her dinner, and didn't catch the raised eyebrows from the two men.   
  
They ate in silence until Patrick rejoined them. "Sorry about that," he apologized. "It was my…mom wanting to know about the race."   
  
Frank said nothing; he'd snuck a look at Patrick while he was on the phone, and although he hadn't been able to hear anything, from the angry and scared expressions on his friend's face, he hadn't been talking to his mother.   
  
"So, Frank," Sarah began. "What did the body look like?"  
  
Ten minutes and three asinine questions from Patrick's girlfriend later, they were ready to leave to pursue Sarah's idea of finding a dance club. But before they left, Frank suddenly patted down his pants pockets, as if searching for something. "Damn," he said loud enough for Patrick to hear. "I promised Dad a full report on the race, but I left my cell phone at the hotel."  
  
Patrick pulled out his. "Here. Just keep it short. Tell him I kicked everyone's ass, but Sweden's."  
  
Smiling, Frank caught the phone. Ignoring Joe's quizzical look, he turned around and walked a few feet in the opposite direction. It only took a second to pull up the list of the last ten incoming calls; he quickly memorized the most recent number and then, just to keep up the pretense of making an actual call, he dialed Nancy's number from memory.   
  
It went immediately to her voice mail; her smooth, chamomile tea voice told him to please leave a message. He tried not to be too disappointed.   
  
"Guess he and Mom are out," Frank said, rejoining the group. "I'll try again later." Tossing the phone back to Patrick, he led them back to the parking lot where they'd left the rental car.   
  
"Joe, you drive. I think I'm going to swing by the police station and find out the latest on the autopsy."   
  
"You sure?" Joe caught the keys with one hand.   
  
Frank nodded. "I'm not in a clubbing mood."   
  
Sarah shook her head as though that was an unbelievable statement. "You shouldn't let one dead body ruin all our fun," she pouted.   
  
"I'll remember that for the next time I find one."   
  
Reluctantly, Joe drove them to the police station and waited as Frank climbed out. "And you're sure about this." After a moment of Frank giving him a significant look, Joe shrugged. "All right. Don't wait up for us."   
  
The rental car peeled off and Frank released a pent-up breath. Joe might be a little miffed that he'd abandoned them, but he wasn't an idiot. He'd gotten the message. Frank did want to find out anything he could about Jonathan Brumby's death, but more importantly, he had a phone number to trace.   
  
There was something that bothered him about these all-too generous sponsors of Patrick's. The more he heard about them, the more they sounded like a group of people no one should ever get mixed up with…the mob!  
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Characters belong to the Stratemeyer Syndicate and Simon & Schuster. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
Author's Notes: I really want to thank everyone who's sticking with the story and giving such kind reviews. I appreciate it very much. Pretty soon, you'll be able to catch this story at the Hardy Detective Agency website (www.hardydetectiveagency.com). Go check them out if you haven't already. I hope you enjoy this chapter, especially if you're into F/N;)   
  
****  
  
Bay of Peril  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
With her cell phone tucked between her bare shoulder and her ear, Nancy sifted baking powder into a stainless steel bowl with one hand and right-clicked her laptop's mouse over a link on the FBI's organized crime webpage with the other. She rolled her eyes at the irony, before brushing it aside.   
  
"The realtor can't get my new key to me until tomorrow," she told George. "So I'm afraid I'll have to impose on you again, tonight."  
  
"You know you're not an imposition, Nan. I'll probably be asleep, though."  
  
"I'll be quiet." Nancy paused as she waited for the webpage to load. "It's been a really bad day, George."   
  
"Do you want to talk about it?"   
  
"I will. Just not right now. I've got an investigation and a cobbler going." She forced a smile. "I refuse to leave this kitchen until I've made progress on both."   
  
George's voice was concerned. "Are you all alone?"  
  
"Yes, but I'm fine, I promise. The restaurant's all locked up. This is the only time I can do any real work on the case."  
  
"Okay, just…be careful. We'll talk in the morning."  
  
Nancy nodded. "Night, George." Her friend hung up and Nancy reached for her phone with the hand that wasn't covered in flour. As soon as she'd ended the call, another one came in, startling her slightly.   
  
"George?" she asked.  
  
"No, it's me. Frank."   
  
She licked her lip and blinked. "Frank. Hi. Hello. What's going on?"  
  
"Not much," he replied. "Except I'm sort of standing at the back entrance to Curacao. The locked back entrance to Curacao."  
  
"You're here? Um…hold on." She wiped her floured-hand on the apron that covered her untucked shirt and wide-legged trousers and went to open the door. True to his word, Frank stood at the payphone in the back alley. Nancy closed up her cell, an amused smile on her face. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?" she asked.  
  
He hung up and walked towards her. "I was in the neighborhood."   
  
"Old line, Hardy," Nancy replied, ushering him inside the kitchen. "Try again."   
  
*I missed you.*   
  
Frank cleared his throat. "A culmination of things. It's been an…interesting day."   
  
"It has been." She paused. "Are you all right, Frank?"   
  
He didn't have to pretend with Nancy, and so he shook his head. "I don't know. I've found bodies before, but this was different. I want to just shake it off." Frank lifted his broad shoulders. "I can't."  
  
"I don't think you're supposed to. If it doesn't get to you, you've lost something precious." Without thinking, Nancy reached out and cupped his face with her hand. "I wouldn't want to see you lose that."   
  
He closed his eyes for a brief moment in acknowledgement and a little shiver ran down Nancy's spine. His cheek was warm beneath her hand, ever so slightly stubbled and infinitely masculine. She had to let go right away.   
  
When she abruptly pulled back, Frank touched his cheek; she'd left behind a fine smudge of powder on his skin. "Fingerprint dust?"  
  
"Flour and baking powder," she laughed, relieved that the intense moment had passed. "I'm trying to bake a mango cobbler."  
  
"Really?" Frank's gaze landed on her open laptop. "I didn't know that the FBI gave away their secret recipes without a fight."   
  
Nancy bit her lip. "Oh, that. Well, the only good thing to come out of today was that I finally have a lead on the case."  
  
"That makes two of us, then," he said, skimming the information on the screen. "Organized crime? All right, this is officially freaky."  
  
"Freaky?"   
  
Frank scrolled down on the page. "I think my friend's sponsors might be mob-related somehow."  
  
"And I think that Curacao's investors might *be* the mob." Nancy drew in a short, sharp breath. "Frank, you don't think…"  
  
"I gave up on believing in coincidences a long time ago," he murmured. "Are you looking for anything specific here?"  
  
"Ossi Industries. That's the only name Victoria could give me."   
  
"That's more than I could glean off of Patrick. Except a phone number."   
  
Nancy picked up a mango from the end of the stainless steel counter and reached for a knife. "Have you tried calling it?"  
  
"I want to know more before I do. I suspect it might be masked, or possibly just a public phone. I would be very surprised if I could trace it." He continued to scroll down, searching.   
  
"We could call the phone company," she suggested, slicing into the exotic fruit.   
  
Frank looked up, suddenly amused. "The thrill of the chase. There aren't many people in my life who appreciate it like you do, Nancy."   
  
She stopped with her knife halfway through the mango. "Callie never liked it, did she?"  
  
"She tolerated it," Frank replied after a moment. "Because it was something I loved. I suppose there's just some point where separate interests become separate lives." After another pause, he continued, "Ned's always been up for an adventure, though. Right?"  
  
Nancy resumed her task, cutting with quiet efficiency. "If it were up to Ned, I'd be a normal, non-sleuthing girlfriend." She paused. "It doesn't matter though…we're breaking up."   
  
"Nancy." Willing back hot tears, she turned her head just enough to see him over her shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?" He smiled weakly. "I'm your friend, you know."   
  
"You're more than that," she whispered before she could stop herself. Her blue eyes grew wide and she quickly whipped back around. "So, on the off chance that Ossi Industries is somehow related to your friend's sponsors…"  
  
She trailed off when she felt him come up behind her. "Nancy," Frank began again. He was so close that she could feel his solid warmth surrounding her. She braced herself. Was she ready to open this particular can of worms? Were either of them ready to have this conversation? Nancy closed her eyes and waited for him to go on.   
  
"Is it 'Ossi' with one 's' or two?"   
  
Her eyes flew open and something akin to relief washed over her. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. "Two," she replied. "I think." Frank moved back to the laptop and she stared down at the neat slices of mango she'd created. Somehow, Frank had known that they weren't ready and had acted accordingly. And while she was grateful, she was also…what? What was that nagging feeling peeking through the relief?   
  
Disappointment?   
  
Nancy shook her head and started turning the slices of mango into bite-sized pieces for the cobbler filling. Silent minutes passed as she sugared the mango to form a sweet glaze, and Frank searched the FBI's database.   
  
"Ah-ha!" he finally said, startling her. "Ossi Industries is believed to be a cover for the Barilli syndicate which operates throughout most of the western United States, with ties to Southern Europe." His eyes whipped back and forth as he skimmed over the information. "They have their hands in everything…money laundering, prostitution, loan sharking…and several unsolved murders have been linked to them, but there's never been anything more than circumstantial evidence. The FBI has an entire task force on these guys, but they keep themselves very clean, presenting themselves as legitimate businessmen with investments and…and sponsorships. For tax purposes." Frank glanced away. "What has Patrick gotten himself into?"  
  
"You don't know for sure that his sponsors aren't anything more than true philanthropists," Nancy said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Whether you believe in coincidences or not, there's no hard evidence yet." She sighed. "But Victoria…she got pulled into all of this without knowing about any of it. And I don't know how to tell her that her business partner was probably murdered by the mob."   
  
Frank frowned. "Nancy, are you in any danger by working here? Because if they came after him, they might…"  
  
"Victoria's the one who's in the most danger. They want something from her, and they've proven how far they'll go." She took a step back. "Perhaps I ought to contact that task force. I'm already being courted by the Bureau; might as well start making some enemies. Because really…who wants some college kid coming to them with more evidence than they've been able to come up with in…"  
  
"The Bureau wants you, too?" he asked, a twinkle in his eye despite the situation. "They keep sending me brochures on how much I'll enjoy training at Quantico after graduation."   
  
Nancy looked up at him. "Are you going to accept the invitation?"  
  
"I haven't decided yet. Are you?"  
  
She shook her head slightly. "I'm not sure. There are so many things to consider."  
  
He agreed, "Yeah. It's a huge decision. A permanent one. You have to go with what will make you happiest…because it's your life. You can't live it for anyone else."   
  
"Frank? Are we talking about the FBI anymore?"  
  
"Honestly?" He never broke their stare; they were so close that either one of them could have made the first move. "I don't know."   
  
Nancy wet her lips nervously. "Whatever this is between us, Frank…"  
  
"Hey." Frank gave her a soft smile. "There's time, Nancy. We don't have to rush this. Whatever this is…I want to do it right. It's important to me."   
  
She lowered her gaze, nodding. After brushing away the tears that caught in her lashes, Nancy lifted her head. "Thank you, Frank."   
  
"Let's keep searching. My gut tells me that Patrick needs help." Frank put a hand to his stomach. "But before we do that…I don't suppose there's anything to eat around this kitchen, is there?"  
  
"You didn't eat?"  
  
"I don't consider McDonald's real food."   
  
Nancy laughed. "Fast food snob." She looked around. "Here. Try some of the filling and tell me what you think." Reaching into the bowl, she pulled out a sugared piece of mango.   
  
Frank held up his hands. "I don't want to get your laptop all sticky."   
  
"I don't…well…" She hesitated. "All right, open up." Nancy fed him the piece of fruit; he chewed and swallowed. "Good?"   
  
"Sweet." His long fingers circled her slender wrist, bringing her fingers up to his mouth. He kissed each of them, tasting the sugar that lingered on her skin. "Sweeter."   
  
Nancy's heart beat at the base of her throat. She tried to swallow, but found that she couldn't. "Frank…"   
  
He dropped her wrist and slid his hands into her hair, drawing her face towards his. "I know." His voice was thick and deep. "Slow."   
  
Her eyelids fluttered when he brushed his lips across hers. She could taste the mango, but more than that, she could taste Frank. They'd kissed before, but this was different somehow. She'd always felt too guilty to really enjoy the soft pressure of his lips, too confused to appreciate the way his mouth melded perfectly with hers. But not right then. Right then, she just wanted to relax into him…and forget that the rest of the world even existed.   
  
The shrill, insistent bleating of an alarm broke them apart. "What is it?" Frank asked, tilting his head up.  
  
"The fire alarm!" Nancy touched her lips where she could still feel his kiss, before glancing around. "I don't see smoke. Do you see…" She gasped and pointed at the swinging door that led out into the restaurant. Curls of white-grey smoke snaked up at the threshold. "Frank!! It's out front!"   
  
"Stay here!"   
  
"I don't think so, Hardy!" She grabbed his hand and together they ran for the door. It was cool to the touch, so Frank pushed it open. Thick clouds of smoke hit them; instantly, they both began to cough.   
  
Nancy blinked her eyes rapidly and tried to peer through the haze. What she saw was nothing short of horrifying. Victoria's restaurant…Victoria's dream was on fire.   
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me, but to the Stratemeyer Syndicate and Simon & Schuster. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
Author's Notes: I'm sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I've had some health issues that have slowed me down, but nothing to worry about and I hope to get back to my regular updating schedule. I'm participating in National Novel Writing Month, but I should be able to juggle everything with a little bit of fairy dust. Thanks for all the encouragement and kind words!   
  
****  
  
Bay of Peril  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
It could have been much worse.   
  
Nancy sat on the cold, concrete curb across the street from Curacao and inhaled, as instructed, from the oxygen tube a paramedic had given her. Her red-rimmed eyes watched the chaos outside Victoria's restaurant. The firefighters had arrived only minutes after she and Frank had gotten out of the building through the kitchen entrance, and they had successfully subdued the blaze. But smoke still poured out of the broken windows and battered door, and there was little to be done about the damages.   
  
Beside her, Frank reached for her hand. "Are you okay?" he asked for the fiftieth time.   
  
"Still fine," she assured him. "Just…stunned." Frank laced his fingers with hers; she smiled and looked over at him. His handsome face was smudged with ashes, but she was certain she hadn't fared any better. "Victoria will be here soon. I need to be strong for her."   
  
"You've got enough strength for ten people. Just don't forget…I'm here if you need me." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. As he did, he noticed a uniformed man approaching them. "I think it's time to give statements now, though."   
  
"Frank Hardy?" the police officer read off a pad of paper that was in his pudgy hand. "And Nancy Freeman?" They both nodded; Frank stood up to greet the man. "Sit down, son. Keep on breathing. I just have a few questions for the two of you, if you don't mind."   
  
Nancy lowered the blue plastic tube from her lips and nodded. "We want to help."   
  
"Good. Now, first of all…just what were the two of you doing in the restaurant this late after closing?"   
  
"I'm training here as an apprentice chef," Nancy replied. "I stayed late to work on a recipe. My…friend…he stopped by to keep me company."   
  
The officer made a note of this. "Now, you told the first officer on the scene that you didn't hear or see anything prior to the fire alarm going off?"   
  
"Nothing," Frank told him. "We heard the alarm and saw smoke coming from the front. By the time we got there, there wasn't much we could do. So we got out and called 911, but there was already a unit on the way."   
  
"It's going to take some more investigating, but the arson guys think that the fire might have been set by someone throwing something through one of the windows. You didn't hear glass breaking or anything?"   
  
Nancy shook her head. "But the wall between the kitchen and the dining room is fairly thick, so the patrons can't hear the chefs in the back."   
  
"Working here, miss, do you know any reason why someone might have done this?"   
  
Her fingers tightened around Frank's. "There have been other…incidents with the restaurant. But you should probably talk to Victoria Lott, the owner; she'll be here soon."   
  
The officer nodded. "We've got both of your contact information, and we'll be in touch if we need anything else. I'd suggest going home and getting a good night's sleep." He walked away as nonchalantly as he'd approached them.   
  
"I hate pushing Victoria, but I really think it's time she let the police in on all of this," Nancy said a moment later. "Maybe I'm in over my head."   
  
"We're always in over our heads," Frank reminded her. "But we never go under, do we?"   
  
"No." She sighed softly and rested her cheek on his shoulder. "Not yet, anyways." He said nothing, only kissed the top of her head before laying his own cheek on her red locks.   
  
Joe found them in that same position a few minutes later when he pulled up to the scene. He took a moment, after jumping out of the driver's seat, to enjoy the picture they made. Soot-dusted, oxygen deprived, but holding hands and leaning on each other. A broad grin spread across his face that just wouldn't go away.   
  
"Frank," he called out, slamming the door closed and jogging over to them. "Nancy…are you two okay? What happened?!"   
  
Something compelled them to pull away from each other. Nancy cleared her throat and put the oxygen tube back in her mouth, leaving Frank to answer his brother. "We're fine, Joe. But the restaurant…" He gestured with his own oxygen apparatus. "That's another story."   
  
Frank quickly filled Joe in on the evening's events, minus everything that had happened just before the fire broke out. After he was done, he frowned. "You got here awfully fast. I only called Patrick's cell five minutes ago."   
  
"We ended up at a club just a few blocks away," Joe explained. "You're sure you're both okay?"   
  
"I'm counting this as my sixty-sixth fire encounter." Nancy smiled bravely. "Can you beat that, Hardy?"   
  
If Joe hadn't been standing right there, Frank would have kissed her again. It was so like Nancy to brush off danger with wit and her indefatigable charm. "Sixty-seventh. But I don't like to brag."   
  
Joe rolled his eyes. "I'll take that as a 'yes'." He looked back at the restaurant. "Is it a complete loss?"   
  
Nancy lifted her shoulders. "Let's hope not. For Victoria's sake." As if on cue, a cab pulled up just behind the brothers' rental car and the woman in question stepped out, hastily dressed with her hair still in curlers. Taking a deep breath, Nancy set aside the oxygen tube and stood up. "There isn't any easy way to do this, except to just do it."   
  
Frank reached for her hand again. "Remember what I told you."   
  
"I know." She squeezed his fingers lightly. "If we don't get to talk again tonight…call me tomorrow."   
  
As Nancy made her way over to her devastated friend, Joe folded his arms over his chest. "Care to fill me in, big brother?"   
  
"No." Frank rose to his feet. "Did you leave Patrick and Sarah at the club?"   
  
Joe nodded, then thought better of it. "Well, Sarah at least. Patrick left his ID at his hotel room and had to go back for it. Thankfully he left his cell phone with us, or else I'd still be there, instead of here. Sarah's still waiting for him, I guess. They can boogie the night away without me, as far as I'm concerned. One more minute of Sarah's babble and my brain was going to just break."   
  
"Sorry about ditching you with them."   
  
"Buy me breakfast and we'll call it even." Joe unfolded his arms. "Did you find anything out at the police station?"   
  
Frank shook his head. "They won't perform the autopsy until tomorrow…well, today I guess. This afternoon." He looked over at Nancy. She had her arms around Victoria, comforting the woman as best she could. "Nancy and I did make a little bit of progress, though."   
  
"Oh, did you? Did you really?"   
  
When he caught the leer in his brother's tone, Frank scowled. "Do you want a minute-by-minute report or something? Are you that desperate?"   
  
"Hey! Joe Hardy is never desperate!! But in the absence of any action of his own on this vacation, he will concede to living vicariously though his brother." Joe wriggled his eyebrows. "Were any bases reached or are you still waiting for the pitch?"   
  
"You need help. I meant progress on the case. I'll fill you in later."   
  
"On the case or the bases?"   
  
Frank leveled him with a hard look, before his face relaxed into a reluctant smile. "Both."   
  
****   
  
Hours later, Nancy stood in the shower a long time after every trace of shampoo had been rinsed away. The water was so hot that the entire bathroom was blanketed in steam, but she lingered, letting it flush her fair skin.   
  
She'd kissed Frank Hardy. And it hadn't come about because of a life-threatening situation, or on the heels of an undercover investigation. She hadn't even thought about Ned, and she was fairly certain he hadn't been thinking about Callie. It had just been the two of them, unable to hold back everything they'd gotten so good at repressing.   
  
And it had been wonderful. Well…up until the fire and partial destruction of Curacao, at least.   
  
Despite that, Nancy smiled as she finally shut the water off and stepped out of the shower. She had just begun drying off when there was a knock on the door.   
  
"Nan," George called out. "Phone. It's Frank."   
  
Speeding up her efforts, she wrapped the towel around her slender body and squeezed excess water from her hair before she opened the door. George handed her the little phone.   
  
"Frank?" Was her voice too breathless? Did she sound too eager? Nancy cleared her throat. "Good morning."   
  
"Morning," he greeted her warmly. "Did you sleep?"   
  
"Some." Her dreams had been laced with kisses and fire alarms, both of which had kept her tossing and turning. "You?"   
  
Frank, apparently, had no problem taking the honest route. "I couldn't stop thinking about you."   
  
Nancy put her hand to her cheek, surprised that she didn't burn herself. How was she supposed to respond to that?   
  
Fortunately, she didn't have to come up with an answer to that as Frank continued, "How is your friend doing?"   
  
"Shell-shocked," she replied, sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet. "She's talking about closing down the restaurant, not even bothering with the repairs. It's disheartening, I know, but I don't want her to give up. No one should be forced into giving up on their dream."   
  
"I agree. Maybe she'll feel differently after the shock wears off."   
  
"I hope so." Nancy tucked a wet lock of hair behind her ear. "So…what are you doing today? Because I pretty much have the day off, due to extreme circumstances."   
  
"Today's the final race. Joe and I are heading down to the Bay to cheer Patrick on."   
  
She nodded. "I understand. I should probably hang around the restaurant for clues or…"   
  
"Spend the day with us," Frank continued in a rush. "With me."   
  
Her smile was broad and bright. "I'd like that."   
  
****   
  
She met them down at the piers just off the rocky beach that bordered San Francisco Bay after changing into jeans and a long sleeved top that brought out the blue in her eyes. George was more than happy to go with her, being the sports enthusiast that she was, and also because she could sense how nervous Nancy was. She'd gotten the full details on the pre-fire kiss the night before, and truthfully she couldn't have been happier for her friend. It would have taken a very dense person not to pick up on the sparks between her and Frank, especially after all the years they'd known each other; while she still liked Ned as a person, in her opinion it was time Nancy played the field a little bit…with a Hardy boy.   
  
It only took a few minutes of scanning the crowd to locate the brothers and the two girls headed over to them, braving the cold wind sweeping over the harbor. Nancy shivered, but it wasn't the weather. Frank waved them over, a smile on the lips that had kissed hers so tenderly the night before. Could anything be the same between them again? Did she want things to be the same?   
  
And why did he always have to look so handsome?   
  
"Are we late?" she asked, brushing hair off her face to hide her blush. "We got caught in traffic."   
  
"No, they're delaying the start time to see if the waves die down a bit. It's really bad sailing conditions right now," Frank replied. "Come on. I want to introduce you to Patrick."   
  
Joe tugged on George's sleeve. "Let's go get some seats."   
  
"Right." She winked at him. "Seats."   
  
"I think they're playing matchmaker," Frank said as they quickly left the couple alone.   
  
Nancy cleared her throat delicately. "Do they really need to?"   
  
He looked at her for a long moment as they walked towards the pier from which Patrick would be sailing. "No. I suppose they don't. We're not doing so bad on our own."   
  
"I really ought to feel guilty. I'm in the middle of an investigation, you know." She shook her head, smiling. "But I don't. Feel guilty."   
  
Frank reached for her hand. "Well, if it helps, I'll try not to be too much of a distraction from now on."   
  
"Too late, Hardy." She entwined her fingers with his.   
  
He squeezed lightly. "I think you'll like Patrick. He's a good guy." Frank frowned. "Even if he has gotten mixed up in…" He stopped, having spotted Patrick heading towards them; Sarah was nowhere to be seen, but that wasn't unusual. She liked having a world famous boyfriend, but not watching the sport that made him so. "Hey! Patrick, I'd like you to meet my…good friend. Nancy. Nancy Freeman. Nancy, this is Patrick Bergman."   
  
"It's nice to meet you, Patrick," Nancy said, warmly. "Frank's told me you're definitely going to win today."   
  
It might have been his imagination, but Frank thought he caught a pained look on his friend's face. "Nice to meet you, too. And I am." He glanced back at Frank. "Man, you missed a hot time last night."   
  
"Not really." Without giving away too many details, Frank described the downward twist his evening had taken. "We're okay, but it could have been a lot worse."   
  
"Oh, man." Patrick swallowed, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing. "Man…that really…sucks." He looked away. "Listen, um, I gotta get to my boat. To get ready. So…I guess I'll see you later." He hesitated for a minute before hurrying away.   
  
"Good luck!" Frank called out. But Patrick was already out of hearing range.   
  
Nancy was puzzled. "Does he always get this flustered before a race?"   
  
"No." His eyes narrowed. "He doesn't." After a moment, he shook off his frown. "Are you hungry?" She nodded. "Let's go grab something."   
  
They brought corndogs and sodas back to a very grateful George and Joe, and the four of them sat in the bleachers eating and watching the pre-game chaos. Nancy's appetite faded quickly; she stared at the remainder of her corndog as her thoughts drifted every which way. The fire, the kiss, something Joe had said the night before, the look on Patrick's face only minutes earlier. Most of the pieces seemed to be there, but her mind just wasn't putting them together.   
  
Joe finished off his food and looked longingly at Nancy's. "Are you going to eat that, Nan?"   
  
She shook her head and offered it to him. "Go for it." Standing up, she continued, "I'll be right back."   
  
Frank glanced up, concern evident in his warm, brown eyes. "Is something wrong?"   
  
"No," Nancy reassured him with a smile. "I just need to find the ladies room."   
  
George's nose wrinkled up. "I'm sorry to inform you that there's nothing but porta-potties."   
  
"Oh. Well, I'll manage." She started down the bleachers. The truth was, she had no need of the facilities. She just needed some fresh, sea-air to clear her head and get it thinking right again. Frank probably would have understood that, but what he might not have understood was his role in getting her thoughts jumbled in the first place.   
  
Whatever had happened the night before, she still had ties to Ned that weren't going to be easy to undo. Part of her heart would always belong to her first love. Could Frank accept that? Was it even fair to ask him to? Perhaps part of his heart still belonged to Callie. Would that make her feel better…or worse?   
  
Sometimes being so analytical in nature frustrated Nancy. Why, she thought, couldn't she be more like Bess? Bess, who followed her heart without hesitation. Yes, it had been broken once or twice, but she rarely regretted the experiences, and she certainly never sat around for hours contemplating every possible angle or recourse before going after something she wanted. Bess wore her heart on her gauzy sleeves; Nancy kept hers under lock and key.   
  
She was too far away to make out much of his face, but Nancy glanced back towards the bleachers, searching out Frank's sturdy figure. If there was one person in the world who she could trust with her heart, Frank was it. She already trusted him with her life, after all.   
  
Nancy turned back around, a new determination in her steps. Frank was worth the risk, worth the pain that would come from breaking up with Ned. Having a relationship with him was worth everything to her.   
  
She found herself walking away from the crowd, but closer to the docks where the racers were preparing to set sail as soon as the Bay began to cooperate. On a pier set a good ways away from the others, two people in particular stood out to her; one because he was wearing the exact same orange, hooded sweatshirt that Patrick had on when they were introduced earlier. And indeed, as she drew closer, she could tell that it was Patrick. He was deep in what looked to be a very heated conversation with a man in black pants and a black turtleneck. Nancy couldn't see the other man's face as his back was towards her as he and Patrick argued.   
  
There wasn't any way to get closer to hear what was being said without being spotted, so Nancy slowly withdrew and started back towards the bleachers. She was almost there when a single shot cracked through the ocean breezes.   
  
In the bleachers, Frank and Joe jumped to their feet as soon as they heard the shot. Panic was already beginning to spread throughout the crowd. Instinctively, Frank searched for Nancy and relaxed only when he spotted her running up the metal steps.   
  
"Did you hear that, Nan?" George asked, unnecessarily.   
  
"I have a bad feeling," her friend replied in a breathless voice. Her slender hands gripped Frank's arms. "I saw Patrick arguing with some man…I don't know….I just think…"   
  
She didn't need to finish her thought. "Show me where," he demanded, reaching for her hand.   
  
They joined a steady stream of people towards the docks with Joe and George hot on their heels. A throng of people had gathered around the place Nancy had feared they might, namely the pier from which Patrick's boat was to have set sail. Together, she and Frank wove their way through bodies and past curiosity-seekers until they reached the center of the confusion.   
  
To their horror, Patrick lay crumpled on the weathered wood, a single gunshot wound to his chest creating a bloody pool around his body.   
  
****   
  
To Be Continued 


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me, but to the Stratemeyer Syndicate and Simon & Schuster. No copyright infringement is intended.   
  
Author's Notes: Thanks for all the kind comments and continued interest in the story. See, I updated faster this time;)  
  
****  
  
Bay of Peril  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
"Paging Dr. Thompson. Dr. Thompson to OB, stat."   
  
"Frank? Are you awake?"  
  
He opened his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the harsh flood of the overhead lights. Nancy looked down at him, her delicate brow crinkled with worry. "What time is it?" he asked her, his voice hoarse.   
  
"Nearly midnight." She sat down in the plastic chair next to his. "You've had quite a nap."  
  
Frank sat up straighter and drew in a deep breath. "Where's Joe?"  
  
"I sent him for coffee. He needed something to do." Nancy reached for his hand and surrounded it with both of her cool palms. "A nurse came out awhile ago and said it was still going to be an hour or so."  
  
"That's not good, right?" He pulled away from her and scrubbed his hands up and down his face, feeling a faint shadow of stubble on his chin. "The longer the surgery takes…"  
  
Nancy quickly interrupted him. "I don't think you can measure these things. You heard the ER doctor. Patrick has a very good chance of making it through this. Try to concentrate on that."   
  
He nodded, but there was no emotion behind the movement. "This shouldn't have happened to him, Nan. Whatever he's mixed up in…he didn't deserve this."   
  
"Of course not," she murmured, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "Frank, I'm so sorry." Before he could stop her, she continued, "I should have gotten closer, tried to get a look at the man he was arguing with. Maybe if they had seen me, they would have stopped and Patrick wouldn't have…"  
  
"Or maybe the bastard would have taken a shot at you," Frank cut her off. "No, Nancy, none of this was your fault in any way whatsoever. And if anything had happened to you…" He stopped, shaking his head. "I don't even want to go there."   
  
Nancy watched him as he leaned forward, supporting himself with his elbows on his knees. "After everything that's happened today, I want you know," she tentatively began. "I've always…I mean…there's always been feelings that…that I've always had and…"  
  
"Nancy."  
  
She blinked. "What?"  
  
"Not now."   
  
Just then, Joe reappeared carrying a paper container with three cups of coffee. "Caffeine has arrived," he said, rather grimly. "Ah, Sleeping Beauty is awake."   
  
Frank ignored the comment, but took the cup his brother offered him. "Where's George?"  
  
"I..um…I talked her into going back to the hotel to get some sleep." With trembling hands, Nancy opened the top of her drink and took a small sip.   
  
"You should have gone with her," Frank said, gulping his coffee down like it was water.  
  
Nancy froze with her cup halfway to her mouth. "Do you want me to go?"  
  
"It's not like any of us being here is really going to help fix that gaping hole in Patrick's chest."  
  
Joe gave his brother a discreet kick. "I think what Frank is trying to say is that he's worried about your well-being and wants you to get a good night's sleep so you'll be fresh to tackle your case in the morning." He nodded. "Yeah."  
  
Frank set his coffee down on the shiny linoleum floor. "Why isn't Sarah here yet?"   
  
"She was a basket-case on the phone when I broke the news," Joe told him, giving Nancy an apologetic look. "But still…you know Sarah; she's probably trying to figure out whether it would better for her to dump Patrick or help him recover."   
  
"I know Sarah," Frank echoed. "And here she comes."   
  
Nancy and Joe looked across the waiting room where Patrick's girlfriend had just entered, looking polished for that particular time of night. Her hair was neatly pulled back and her makeup was impeccable. She spotted them and started to make her way over. "Frank…Joe." Only her voice gave away any emotion; it was tiny and worried. "Is he going to be okay?"  
  
The brothers exchanged a quick glance, but before they could answer, Nancy stood up. "Maybe I should go. I don't want to get in anyone's…" She trailed off as she caught a glance at Sarah's blond waves, smoothed back from her face and held in place by something very familiar.   
  
The one-of-a-kind hairclip that had been stolen along with her handbag.   
  
"You're not in the way," Joe assured her when Frank didn't. "Far from it, Nan."  
  
Nancy swallowed. Her brain was processing things too quickly; she could barely keep up. "Still…I think…" She took a deep breath. "Frank, can I talk to you for a second?"   
  
He stood with much effort and followed her a few yards across the waiting area. "What's wrong?"  
  
She refrained from telling him that she could ask him the same question. "I don't want to jump to conclusions, especially now, but I think Patrick is more involved in all of this than just being in over his head."  
  
Frank frowned. "What does that mean?"  
  
"Sarah's clip." Nancy paused. "It's mine, Frank. The one the mugger took."  
  
He discreetly glanced over his shoulder; Sarah was sobbing into Joe's shoulder, her ponytail and the colorful clip that adorned plainly visible. "How can you be sure?"  
  
"It was handmade by hippie throwbacks on Haight Street, Frank," she replied. "There isn't another one like it in the world. Somehow, Sarah got a hold of my clip."  
  
"Are you implying that…"  
  
"I'm not implying anything until we ask her where she got it."  
  
Frank sighed almost to himself. "Nancy, in all probability the mugger went through the contents of your purse and decided to scrap whatever he didn't want. Sarah could have just happened to buy the clip wherever it was sold."  
  
"I thought you said you didn't believe in coincidences anymore," she challenged, impatience creeping into her voice despite how much she tried to keep herself under control. "Frank, I have a gut feeling. I'm sorry, but I have to go with it."   
  
"Her boyfriend, my good friend, is in surgery hanging onto his life by a single thread, and you're going to bother her about her hair clip?"  
  
Nancy took a step back. "What…what's going on here? This is still an investigation, and I'm not doing anything out of the ordinary by following up on what could be a very important clue." Neither of them spoke for a long moment. "Are you afraid that maybe this isn't a coincidence? And if Sarah wasn't the mugger…then maybe someone else was? Someone like Patrick?"  
  
"Patrick might be naïve enough to take money from the mob, but he would never, ever work for them. It's too much of stretch, Nancy. Too much."   
  
"Don't you want to know for sure, though?"  
  
"I don't need to question my friend," Frank shot back, hotly. "It's a matter of trust. I trust that Patrick wouldn't do anything like what you're suggesting."   
  
His tone cut her to the core, but she pushed on. "Frank, we've always trusted each others intuitions, no matter what the circumstances were. You have to know that I'd never suggest Patrick was the mugger if there wasn't hard evidence to back it up."  
  
"Your hard evidence is a hair clip, Nancy."   
  
"It's more than that!" After taking a second to collect herself, she lowered her voice. "Last night, Joe said that Patrick left them at the club to go get his ID."  
  
Frank crossed his arms. "And?"  
  
"He also said that the club was only a block or two from Curacao. What if Patrick left the club not to get his ID, but to…"  
  
"Set fire to the restaurant? No." He shook his head. "Patrick doesn't have that in him. He'd never do anything to hurt me or my friends."  
  
"But how was he to know that anyone was in the restaurant that late, much less that you might be one of them? Also, you saw how he reacted to you telling him about the fire last night, that you were almost caught in it. He looked horrified." Nancy moved closer to him. "It's mostly speculation at this point, but…"  
  
Frank jerked away from her. "You've been doing this for years. You should know by now that speculation is just that. Speculation."  
  
Her eyes narrowed to fight the hot tears that threatened to spring up. "Why are you being like this, Frank? I'm following a clue and you're acting like I'm trying crucify your friend. Do you think I'm enjoying this or something? "  
  
"I don't know, Nancy. Are you?"  
  
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to take them back. The wounded look that spread across her face was painful to witness. Knowing that he had put it there made him feel like the world's biggest bastard. "Nancy, I didn't…"  
  
She held up her hand, and Frank could see it shaking. He wanted to take it in his, take back everything he'd said, and try to explain the anger and resentment he was feeling that had nothing to do with her, but had lashed out at her nonetheless. "You don't owe me any explanations." Her voice shook. "I'm just…" She reached for her purse. "Going to go. Um…have Joe call me when you know anything." Nancy started backing away before he could see the tears in her eyes.   
  
"Nancy, wait! I'm…" He stopped because she was already at the elevators with her back facing him. "…sorry."   
  
With Sarah's face permanently pressed into his shoulder, Joe watched his brother walk back over, looking properly ashamed. Frank sank into one seat. "Don't say a word," he said.  
  
"Wasn't going to," Joe replied, curtly.   
  
A few minutes passed with nothing but the buzz of the hospital and the sound of Sarah's muffled sobs. Finally, Frank glanced over at Patrick's girlfriend. "Sarah, can I ask you something?"   
  
She lifted her head; her eyes were puffy and red with tears. Sniffing, she nodded. "Okay. Shoot."  
  
"Where did you get that clip…the one in your hair?"  
  
Sarah sniffed again, reaching up to touch the top of her head. "This? I got it…" Her face crumpled. "I got it from Patrick. It's not diamond earrings, but it's…it's the thought that counts, right? Oh god…he's just got to be okay!!"   
  
Frank ran his hands through his hair. "Damnit!" He shot to his feet. "Joe, I have to…"  
  
"Go." His brother jerked his head towards the elevator bank. "Apologize to her for whatever you did."   
  
He hesitated. "I really messed up this time."  
  
"I doubt it'll be the last," Joe shrugged.   
  
****  
  
Nancy shivered on the corner of the curb, waiting for the pedestrian light to come on. For the thirtieth time since she left the hospital, she wondered if she should just get a cab. But she steeled herself against the sweeping cold wind and crossed the street when the light changed. The walk would do her good, she decided. If she walked enough, maybe she could figure out what on earth had just happened. Even now as she thought about it, she wanted to cry. But she wouldn't. She wouldn't spend any tears. Whatever was bothering Frank had nothing to do with her. Nancy wiped her cheek. Nothing at all.   
  
She was shivering, but she just kept walking, hoping that eventually she'd warm up. How had things gone so downhill, so fast? Was it just Patrick that had Frank so upset…or was it something she'd done? Nancy shook her head fervently. No, she wouldn't do that. It wasn't her fault. It was not her fault.   
  
"Nancy!!"   
  
His voice was recognizable even over the honks from the street. Nancy closed her eyes for a brief second before continuing on her way.   
  
"Nancy, please! Wait!"  
  
Something compelled her to stop after rounding a corner into an empty street illuminated by a lone light many feet away. Frank ran up behind her, but she didn't turn around. "What is it, Frank?"  
  
He took a moment to catch his breath. "I've been trying to think of what I could possibly say to you all the way from that damn waiting room."   
  
"You really don't need to…"  
  
"Of course I do. Nancy…" He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. "Of course I do."  
  
She finally turned around, but she couldn't meet his eyes. "You're under a lot of stress. My speculations…"  
  
Nancy never got to finish her sentence, and Frank never got the chance to correct her or apologize. The next thing either of them knew, something heavy slammed into the backs of their necks, and both of their worlds went black.   
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Characters within do not belong to me, but to the Stratemeyer Syndicate and Simon & Schuster. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
Author's Notes: Updated quickly again!! Thanks so much for the continued interest. As for all the cliffhangers, I'm just following the style of the series. Every chapter ends on a cliffhanger;) Enjoy!  
  
****  
  
Bay of Peril  
  
by Kristen Elizabeth  
  
****  
  
The first thing Frank was aware of was the rock and roll of waves underneath his body. Lying on his side, he could smell salt and mildew as his cheek was pressed against wet wood. Although his head throbbed like an entire steel drum band, he forced his eyes open, but all he saw was a few coils of weathered rope. With a groan, he tried to sit up. Unfortunately, he found, it wasn't to be that easy. His hands were tied in front of him, and his feet were bound together as well.   
  
"Frank?" He heard Nancy's worried whisper and arched his body until he could see her. She was lying a few feet away in a similar position.   
  
"Are you okay?" he asked, struggling with the ropes on his hands.   
  
Nancy looked like she was about to answer, then she abruptly closed her mouth. A moment later, a man appeared over Frank. His hair was dark, graying at the temples and slicked back like a clichéd gangster. "I see you both decided to come around. That's good…this was going to be more difficult if you didn't."   
  
"Who are you?" Frank demanded.   
  
"I'd be less worried about who I am, and more worried about where you are." The man grabbed the ropes restraining Frank and hauled him up into a sitting position. He immediately looked around them. They were on a boat, a fishing boat of some sort. And although it was midnight black, he could still tell that they were surrounded by water.  
  
"We're on the Bay," Nancy said softly.  
  
"Very good, Miss Freeman. Excuse me…Miss Drew" The man yanked on Nancy's ropes next, propping her up next to Frank against the inside of the hull. "Yes, we know who you really are. We've known for some time."  
  
"We?" she asked.  
  
The man chuckled. "There's always a 'we,' isn't there?"  
  
Frank glared up at their captor. "What do you want with us?"  
  
"You're young. I'll forgive you for that tired line. You kids learn too much from the movies these days." The man snapped his fingers and another man appeared with a white bucket, smudged with bloody fingerprints. "I'm sure you know exactly why you're here."  
  
"Are you the son of a bitch who shot my friend?"  
  
The man frowned. "Tsk, tsk. Your friend accepted the possibility of consequences; is it my fault that I was charged with carrying them out?"   
  
"The consequences of doing what?" Frank asked.   
  
"We don't really need to get into all of that now." He nodded at the other man who moved to the edge of the boat. With a metal ladle, the man began rapidly throwing a nauseating mixture of blood and fish heads over the side.   
  
Nancy cleared her throat. "If not now, when?"  
  
"That is a very good point." The grey-haired man folded his arms. "But it's not written anywhere that the bad guy *has* to give the good guys his motives when he's about to…take care of them."  
  
"Call it common courtesy," Frank spat out.   
  
He shook his head. "I don't think so. Jerry, that should be enough. We don't want to attract too much attention. At least not of the human variety."  
  
Frank glanced at Nancy; she'd already figured out given the horrified look on her face. "You're starting a chum slick."  
  
"Very good. Someone's been watching the Discovery Channel." The man took in a deep breath of salt air. "Did you know that a shark can sense one part blood in a million parts of water?" He looked back at them, a broad smile on his face. "I hope you both can swim. Fast."  
  
****  
  
"Joe Hardy?" The nurse manning the surgery floor looked around the waiting room until she spotted the only two people in it, Joe and Sarah. "Joe Hardy, there's a phone call for you."  
  
It took him a minute to peel Sarah off of his shoulder, but after he'd succeeded, he walked to the nurses' station to take the call. "Joe Hardy here."  
  
"Joe, it's George."  
  
"Hey, thought you were supposed to be sleeping."  
  
"Couldn't. Any word on Patrick?"  
  
Joe sighed. "Nothing yet."  
  
"Oh, well, let me know when you know." George cleared her throat. "Anyways, I was really calling to ask…is Nancy there?"  
  
"Nope, she ran out 'bout an hour, hour and a half ago."  
  
"Really? Because she's not back yet, and I was just wondering…"  
  
Winking at the nurse, Joe leaned against the counter. "I really wouldn't worry about her. She and Frank had some kind of spat; he took off after her. I figure they're probably deep into a make-up session, and with any luck on my brother's side, a make-out session."  
  
He could almost see George rolling her eyes. "Gotcha. I won't wait up for her then." She paused. "Are you okay?"  
  
"I'm hanging in there."  
  
"Good. Keep on hanging, and try to get some sleep. Night, Joe."  
  
"Night George." He handed the nurse the phone with another wink. Old habits died hard.   
  
"Frank or Joe Hardy?"  
  
This time it was a doctor in rumpled scrubs who called his name. "That's me!" He ran over to the swinging doors the surgeon stood in front of; Sarah stood up on shaky knees. "I'm Joe, Joe Hardy."  
  
"Mr. Hardy," the doctor addressed him in a tired, but pleased voice. "Your friend is out of surgery. He's in recovery and he wants to talk to you."  
  
****  
  
Nancy licked her lips and immediately regretted it. The wind was so cold as it whipped across the water, she could practically feel her mouth chapping. Next to her, she could sense Frank discreetly struggling with his ropes. He didn't seem to be making much headway. As for her own ropes, whoever had tied them was obviously a professional. They weren't about to budge.   
  
Stall for time, every instinct told her. The longer they could keep their captors talking, the longer they had to figure a way out of the situation. "So, you know who I am. You've always known. How?"  
  
"Your reputation precedes you, Miss Drew. We knew who you were the second we cared enough to take a look at you." The man looked over the side of the boat. "Jerry, a few more scoops, if you please. We want as many players as possible in this game."  
  
"Is that what this is to you? A game?" Frank gritted his teeth. "Save yourself the trouble. We barely know anything and we can't prove any of it."  
  
"You're both a liability. My job is to remove any problems, no matter how insignificant they might be."   
  
Nancy shook her head. "He's right. I have no real proof that connects Ossi Industries, Curacao and your…employers."  
  
"But the fact that you can even make an unproven connection between the three makes you a problem, Miss Drew." He bent down and started undoing the ropes around Nancy's ankles. "Try to kick me, and I won't bother making your death look like a tragic accident."   
  
Behind his back, Frank kept struggling with his ropes. They felt a bit looser, but nowhere near loose enough for him to break free. "Leave her alone."   
  
The man chuckled. "Let me guess? Puppy love?" He threw the rope aside. "Get up."  
  
Nancy rose to her feet, stumbling slightly as she regained her balance while trying to compensate for the rocking boat. "You might be able to get rid of us, but the police are on the case at Curacao now. It won't take them long to make the same conclusions we have."  
  
"Especially with a body and a seriously wounded man," Frank added. "Just how does Patrick fit into all of this?"   
  
"Patrick?" He pretended to think. "Oh yeah, him." The man shrugged. "He needed a sponsor. We needed an errand boy. He's been very helpful."  
  
"You used him to carry out your dirty work." Frank's voice shook with anger. "You used him and threw him away."  
  
"Let's not be emotional." The man grabbed Nancy's arm which was still bound in front of her. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.  
  
Frank's eye twitched. "You're hurting her."  
  
Their captor shook his head, laughing. "To the side of the boat, if you don't mind." Nancy hesitated. "Now." He yanked her over to where he wanted her. "Time to take the plunge, Miss Drew."  
  
"Is this how you killed Jonathan Brumby?" There was no reply. Nancy looked down at the black waters of the Bay. "You won't get away with this." Despite her best efforts, the words wobbled just a bit.   
  
"If it makes you happy to believe that." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pistol. "Jump. It's not an option."   
  
Standing her ground, Nancy looked back at Frank. His body jerked as he fought the ropes. His eyes locked with hers. After a moment, Nancy turned back around. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, the man pushed her over the edge.   
  
"No!!!" Frank yelled. "Nancy!!!"   
  
There was no answer to his cry. Nothing but a splash.   
  
****  
  
To Be Continued 


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Characters do not belong to me, but to the Stratemeyer Syndicate and Simon & Schuster. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
Author's Notes: To follow the story.  
  
****  
  
Nancy hit the water and felt nothing but the cold bite of the fifty degree salt water. The shock might have knocked her out for a second, she wasn't sure. All she knew was that with her hands tied together, she submerged for a moment before she managed to kick her way to the surface. It proved to be warmer under the freezing waves; the wind chill on the surface had her shivering within seconds. She gulped huge breaths of air as she treaded water. Her face felt sticky with the blood meant to attract predators. How long would it be before one came to the boat, searching for the source of the scent, searching for the bait, but finding her instead?   
  
She tried not to think about it too much. Everything she knew about sharks led her to believe that most attacks were usually a case of mistaken identity, the fish taking a human for a seal or a turtle. But then, she was in the midst of a blood slick, kicking her legs to keep her head above the water. She was a fairly big piece of sitting bait.   
  
Whipping her head from side to side, Nancy scanned the water around her. If she got out of the slick, perhaps her chances would be better. She didn't know how far it extended around the boat, but she began to kick forward, pushing herself through the frigid water as best she could with her bound arms. Through the water that lapped up around her ears and the roar of the wind, she tried to hear if Frank was calling her name, but she heard nothing. She wanted to yell, to let him know she was still there, but her lips were stiff from the cold. In fact, the more she moved, the more effort it took to do so. Hypothermia, Nancy thought with a silent groan.   
  
Well, it was better than a shark bite.  
  
****  
  
"Patrick?" Joe approached the ICU bed cautiously. His friend was hooked up to too many machines to count, but he managed to open his eyes upon hearing his named called. "Hey. You know you look like crap, right?"  
  
The corners of Patrick's mouth turned up. "Yeah." His voice was faint and strained. "But I'm alive."  
  
"That's what counts." Clearing his throat, Joe continued, "What happened, Patrick? Who did this?"  
  
It took a moment for him to reply. "I wish…I wish I could take it all back, Joe. God, I wish I…could." His throat stuck. "I was…desperate. For money. I'd never had it…in my whole life." He closed his eyes for a long moment, gathering his strength. "I'm so…sorry. I didn't know…"  
  
"Didn't know what?"  
  
"That Frank…was in the…the restaurant. Or that he…knew the red-head."  
  
"Nancy?" Joe frowned as all the pieces came together. "Oh, Patrick…man."  
  
"Yeah." Patrick looked away. "I fucked up. I wanted out. They…well, you can see their answer…to that."  
  
Joe grabbed onto the metal frame of the hospital bed and hung his head. "You snatched Nancy's purse? You set the fire at Curacao?"  
  
"And the other stuff…at the restaurant." Patrick nodded as much as he could, wincing from the pain it caused. "I'd take it…all back if I could."  
  
"I know, man." He ran his hands down his face. "I know."   
  
His wounded friend glanced around the room. "Where's Frank?"  
  
"He and Nancy are off somewhere, I don't know where."   
  
Patrick's eyes grew wider. "No…no, you have to…keep an eye on them!" He struggled, like he was trying to sit up.  
  
"Hey, Patrick, chill out! You just had massive surgery!"   
  
"They…they know…who Nancy…is." His breath heaved. "They're…gonna…"   
  
He didn't need to spell it out for his friend. Joe cursed sharply. "Where would they be taken?"  
  
****  
  
As soon as Nancy went overboard, Frank went wild on his ropes. Kicking and twisting, he fought them with righteous fury. "Nancy!!" He lashed out at the man in charge with his bound feet. "If anything happens to her, you bastard, I swear…"  
  
"You swear what?" he laughed, as he held down Frank's ankles and untied his feet. "What are you going to do to me?"   
  
Frank gritted his teeth, but he had no reply.   
  
"That's what I thought." The man reached for Frank's roped hands and hauled him to his feet so hard that it felt like his shoulder was almost dislocated. He made no noise of pain, however, refusing to give his captor the satisfaction. "Your turn. You can say hello to your little girlfriend. If there's anything left of her."  
  
The words conjured up so many horrible images of things that could be happening to Nancy, that it set something off in Frank. With a superhuman burst of strength, he wrestled his hands out of his bindings. The ropes scraped his skin raw and drew blood, but he didn't notice or care. Balling up one hand, he struck, landing a hard punch across the man's face.   
  
Before he could recover, Frank sent his other fist straight into their captor's stomach. The man groaned and doubled over. Without waiting, Frank ran over to the side of the boat. "Nancy!! Nancy…answer m…"  
  
He was abruptly cut off by the man who had started the chum slick grabbing him around the throat in a choke-hold. With wild motions, Frank clawed at the arm around his neck that was already starting to cut off his oxygen supply. He kicked back at the man's knees, but it didn't do much good. The lack of air had his head spinning.   
  
Suddenly, he felt himself pulled away from the choke-hold. A fist slammed into his stomach, knocking what little air he'd managed to get into his lungs right back out again. When he opened his eyes, he saw the man in charge standing over him with the pistol pointed straight at his face.  
  
"You're determined. I'll give you that." He licked blood off the corner of his lip. "But your amateur antics will only get you so far…and this is it."  
  
Frank slowly straightened. Just over the man's shoulder, he could see a light coming towards them across the black bay. He recognized the source.   
  
The US Coast Guard.  
  
He was going to be all right. But Nancy…he closed his eyes. He could only hope.  
  
****  
  
Her breath was coming in short, shallow pants and her kicking motions were sluggish, barely enough to keep her head above the water. Nancy never gave up hope, but she had to admit, she was almost on the edge of accepting defeat. Drowning, freezing, either was a better alternative to being nibbled by a…  
  
Shark.   
  
Nancy legs stopped moving the moment she saw the white streak just under the water's surface. Fear was a strong, bitter taste in the back of her throat. Without the kicking motions keeping her head above the water, she began to slip below the surface. She tried to hold her breath for as long as possible, but soon the burning need for oxygen became too much and every instinct propelled her to kick up.  
  
The moon peaked out from behind a curtain of dark clouds, allowing just enough light for Nancy to see the tip of the shark's fin slicing through the choppy water.   
  
"Oh god," she whispered out loud, her teeth chattering so hard she nearly bit her tongue. It was coming towards her.   
  
Thinking quick, Nancy let her body float to the surface, as though she were a piece of flotsam. Her eyes were closed under the cold water, but she could sense the enormous power of the predator as it came closer to her. When she felt a hard nudge to her side, she opened her eyes, wincing at the salt sting.   
  
The shark was probably no longer than she was, certainly not the enormous size of Jaws, but that didn't mean it was any less deadly. Nancy watched it swim underneath her body; had her life not been in serious jeopardy, she might have admired the beauty of the creature as it glided below her. The bump hadn't hurt, but she was very afraid it was just a prelude. Bump and bite, was that what it was called?  
  
Her lungs cried for air, so she lifted her head and sucked in a huge lungful. Putting her face back in the water, she saw the shark turn in a fluid curve. Every instinct told her to swim away, to get the hell out of the water, but where was she going to go? Nancy kicked her legs hard, scissoring away as fast as she could. The shark was much faster though and swam straight towards her.   
  
As it got closer and closer, Nancy's panic grew. Was this going to be the end? Would she never see her father or Hannah or her friends, Ned…or Frank ever again? She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the pain, hoping that whatever happened, she'd pass out soon.   
  
When there was no jagged, crushing bite, her eyes popped open. A quick look around told her that the shark was going to make another pass. The combination of the freezing water and paralyzing fear was too much. For the first time in her memory, Nancy felt her body giving up.   
  
Before she could slip below the surface, something landed in the water in front of her. Her vision was a little fuzzy from the salt water, but she could recognize that it was a life preserver. A life saver. She grabbed the circle of heavy foam and stuck her arm through it, keeping her eyes on the shark's fin, now only a dozen yards away from her.   
  
"Nancy!" She heard Frank's voice just as someone pulled the preserver up, dragging her out of the water along with it. Holding on for dear life, Nancy waited for the feeling of solid wood beneath her feet. She had no idea what was going on, but she was out of the water and, most importantly, alive.   
  
Several people reached for her and pulled her over the railing. Cold, wet and exhausted from the adrenaline rush of coming face to face with a great white shark, Nancy collapsed on the deck of the boat, not caring where she was, even if it was back in her captor's grasp.   
  
"Nancy." Warm hands cupped her face. She opened her eyes and found herself staring into Frank's. "Oh, god, Nancy." Suddenly, his mouth was on hers; she whimpered from the heat of the kiss. It felt so good, so right. Desperate passion, pent-up longing…Nancy's head spun when he pulled back. "You're all right." Frank ran his hands across her shoulders and down her arms, examining her for any injuries or wounds. "You're all right," he repeated. "I was so scared…" He stopped when he noticed that her body was shaking from the cold. "Joe! Blankets!"  
  
Her teeth chattered as she asked, "What…happened?"  
  
Joe answered her as he ran over with a thick, wool blanket, emblazoned with the words, US Coast Guard. "Patrick came out of surgery and told me what they had planned for you. Fortunately they were the only boat out on the Bay in this weather and we didn't have any trouble finding you. The guys who did this are handcuffed downstairs."  
  
Frank draped the blanket around Nancy, bundling her up against the wind. "We'll get you some coffee…we've got to get you warm. Joe?"  
  
"I'm on it." Joe headed off, leaving them alone on the boat's deck.   
  
Nancy closed her eyes, letting a single tear fall down her cheek. "I thought I was going to die," she whispered. "The shark bumped me…and then it started back towards me and I thought…I'm never going to see the people I love again." She slowly opened her eyes again. "I thought I might never see you again."  
  
"I know what you mean." He pushed wet locks of hair off of her cheeks. "I know…I was terrified. Nancy, I'm so sorry…I snapped at you at the hospital because I was worried about Patrick and what he had done, and I didn't want to acknowledge that a friend of mine could…"  
  
"Shh." Nancy pressed a cold finger against his lips. "It's all right. It's all right…I promise."  
  
Frank shook his head. "I acted like a jerk; I…"  
  
She cut him off by replacing her finger with her lips. This kiss was longer than any they'd ever shared before, and no one who witnessed it would have dared interrupt it. The blanket dropped away from Nancy's shoulders as she wrapped her arms around Frank's neck, kissing him like she'd wanted to for years. Frank's strong, but gentle hands twisted into her wet hair, and suddenly Nancy was anything but cold.   
  
****  
  
"I'd like to propose a toast." On the roof of her apartment where she'd gathered Nancy and her friends for a very special Fourth of July celebration, Victoria raised her glass of champagne and waited for her younger guests to do the same. "To the new and improved Curacao. To friends who have gone on to a better existence." Her voice shook slightly as she paid tribute to her murdered business partner.   
  
"To friends that stayed with us," Joe added, thinking about Patrick who was still in recovery. But after his friends' wounds healed, his legal battles would start as he testified against the crime family that had held him under their thumbs for so long.  
  
"And, last but not least, to freedom from tyranny," Victoria finished up.  
  
"Here, here!" George proclaimed.  
  
Nancy smiled as she took a sip of the bubbly drink. Freedom. Yes, it was certainly something to be celebrated. But she knew that Victoria wasn't only talking about the historical importance of the idea, but the freedom she was currently enjoying, freedom from the threats that had plagued her and her restaurant. In some small way, Nancy was glad to have been a part of securing that freedom for her friend.   
  
The San Francisco night was cool, but not cold, and so clear that even with the city lights, the stars were visible in all their splendor. Victoria's building offered a wonderful view of the Golden Gate Bridge, which was lit up almost as much as the night sky. It was a picture perfect summer holiday evening.   
  
"Hey." Frank's voice roused Nancy out of her thoughts. He gave her a warm look as he set down his glass. "In case I haven't already told you this…you look so beautiful tonight."   
  
Her cheeks flushed and she instinctively looked down at her outfit, a dark sea-foam green gauzy number that just skimmed her knees. She had accented it with a old fashioned lace shawl that draped gracefully around her slender arms. "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself, Hardy." And he didn't in khaki pants and a dark blue shirt.   
  
"This old thing? You're too kind."  
  
She laughed, and once again Frank found himself amazed at the power her smile had over him. If he hadn't known for sure that he wanted a future with this woman, he was certain right then. Clearing his throat, he shot a look at his brother, who stood on the other side of the roof's little garden patio, chatting with George and Victoria, and pigging out on the delicious appetizers. Joe caught his eye and nodded; they'd had a long discussion the night before, and knowing that his brother was behind him one-hundred percent made him at least a little less nervous.  
  
He looked back at Nancy. She was staring at the stars, her chin tipped upwards exposing the pure line of her throat. Frank took a deep breath. "Nancy. Can we talk?"  
  
Nancy visibly swallowed and turned her head to look at him. "All right."  
  
After leading her to the stone and brick wall around the roof, Frank reached for her hand. "Seeing you go overboard…well, it was horrible, but it was also a kick in the head…one I think I needed." He paused for a moment. "I know it's only been a week, but really hasn't it been more like years? You always had Ned; I always had Callie, but…"  
  
She finished the thought for him. "There's always been something with us. I know. I've felt it, too."  
  
"I just think…we make sense, Nancy. And I'm trying not to be too analytical about this because Joe seems to think that's unromantic, but you and I *are* analytical. It's just one of a hundred things we have in common. If I were a third party looking at us together, I'd assume we were, you know, together. So…" Taking another breath, Frank laid it all out. "Why aren't we?"  
  
"Why aren't we together?" Nancy looked down at her hand as it rested in his warm one. "Honestly, I have no idea."   
  
"I know you're still technically with Ned, so I'm not sure if this is the best way to go about this, but I want to give us a try, Nancy. I believe that we'd work out; I believe in us." The look Frank gave her was one of boyish inquiry, with just a trace of worry that rejection might be right around the corner. Her heart melted.   
  
"I believe in us, too," she whispered.   
  
Frank visibly relaxed. "I don't want to rush you if you need time to adjust, and don't want to go straight from one relationship into another. I'll wait however long you need before…"  
  
Nancy shook her head. "Frank Hardy, I don't want to wait too long to call you my boyfriend. Yes, I have things to settle, but…" She entwined her fingers with his. "I want to be with you."   
  
"God, Nancy. You have no idea how long I've wanted to have this exact conversation with you."   
  
She smiled at him, coyly. "How did we wrap things up in your mind?"  
  
"Like this." He pulled her up against his chest and lowered his lips to hers. She was so sweet, like cinnamon and sugar; how lucky was he to be the man she wanted?   
  
The sounds of fireworks exploding in the air broke their kiss. The sky lit up with greens and reds, blinding whites and dazzling blues over the city's famous bridge. Nancy sighed as Frank slipped his arm around her waist; she leaned into him and rested her cheek on his shoulder.   
  
George and Joe joined them to watch the Fourth of July display. Over the top of Nancy's head, Frank caught Joe winking at him. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly.   
  
"So," George started, grinning at her best friend. "Another Hardy/Drew adventure ends, eh?"  
  
Because Frank and Nancy were too wrapped up in the fireworks, as well as each other, to answer, Joe replied for them. "Nah. I'd say it's just starting."  
  
****  
  
The End  
  
A/N: Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys will return in "Dance of Death." Look for it...um...sometime soon. It will be a continuation of sorts of this story, so I hope you keep reading! Thank you once again for all the reviews! You've been a great audience.  
  
Kristen Elizabeth 


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